


Far Safer

by neednot



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - All Media Types, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gelphie, Romance, Slow Burn, bookverse, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:55:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 34,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8046562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neednot/pseuds/neednot
Summary: The world, Elphaba Thropp had decided, was divided into two types of people: those who were good, and those who were clever.And she was not good.
When Elphaba begins falling for Galinda, she must decide if her feelings for her roommate are worth dragging Galinda into the political nightmares of Oz… and what the consequences of falling in love in such a climate could mean for them both.





	1. Good or Clever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N November 26, 2016:
> 
> Hi all! You'll notice there are fewer chapters if you've been following along: I've condensed the shorter chapters into longer parts, but all the content is still there! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, as always, and thank you for sticking with the story!

> _Far safer, through an Abbey gallop  
> _ _The Stones a’chase  
> _ _Than Unarmed, one’s a’self encounter  
> _ _In lonesome Place_
> 
> Emily Dickinson

* * *

 

The world, Elphaba Thropp had decided, was divided into two types of people: those who were good, and those who were clever.

And she was not good. 

She had never believed she was. She could fancy herself clever if she chose, if she was in the right mood, but good? No. 

Especially not for the thoughts that had been running through her head as of late about the girl she shared a room with. Those thoughts were not clever; they certainly weren’t good. If she were cross with herself, she might have thought them wicked.

(And she was often cross with herself.)

But at present, her roommate was sitting in front of her vanity, running a brush through golden curls which had, Elphaba was ashamed to admit, caused her much envy when they first started living together. And although she was beginning to tolerate Galinda’s presence after two weeks, there was a thrum of something else under that tolerance, something Elphaba dared not think about.

So she buried her nose in her books by Unionist ministers and shuttered the thoughts through the dark corridors of her brain, in the rooms and halls where all her other awful, wretched memories lived.

She didn’t know why she tortured herself reading Unionist writings. If she were being honest she thought it a way of understanding Frex better, but then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand. Maybe it was more the knowledge as a weapon, ammunition against future arguments with her father.

After reading the same paragraph four times, however, she threw the book across the room in frustration, causing Galinda to turn and look at her.

“I’ve never seen you treat a book in such a way, Miss Elphaba,” she said stiffly, though there was a smile edging at the corners of her mouth.

“A book has never angered me so.”

“What angers you?” Galinda asked, turning back to her vanity, though she could still see her green roommate’s sour expression in the mirror.

“A lack of understanding, I suppose,” Elphaba muttered, retrieving the book from the floor and placing it on her small nightstand. “I get angry at what I don’t understand.” She pushed her glasses up her sharp nose. The confession surprised her—not that she hadn’t known this about herself, she had, but that she was confessing such a thing to Galinda, of all people.

“If I got angry at everything I didn’t understand, I’d be angry all the time,” Galinda said flippantly, but again, there was that smile towards her green roommate.

Elphaba wished desperately to not see that smile aimed at herself, so she changed the subject. “Are you going out tonight?” she asked, indicating the care with which Galinda was applying a blue powder to her eyelids.

 _Please say yes_ , she thought. _Please_.

“Yes,” Galinda said. Then, frowning, she turned back to her roommate. “You don’t... wish to join me, do you, Miss Elphaba?”

Elphaba couldn’t tell if that was fear or hope she heard in the blonde’s voice.

“No,” she said hastily. “No, I don’t.”

“I see,” Galinda said, then fell silent as she leaned towards her mirror and swiped a coat of black mascara across her eyelashes. Elphaba watched—it was its own kind of sorcery, the make-up pretty girls used, changing their appearances with the blink of an eye. Elphaba, who had never wished to be pretty, still found such a transformation almost enviable, though she’d never admit that to Galinda.

She was staring, she realized suddenly, and she quickly averted her gaze, felt her face growing hot.

What did she care of what Galinda looked like? What did she care of how her hair caught the light from the oil lamp, how the blue powder made her eyes more striking— 

No. Those thoughts were wicked, and Elphaba would not tolerate them.

Galinda stood up, smoothed her hands over her periwinkle frock that was far fancier than anything Elphaba could ever wish to own. “Do have a lovely evening with your books, Miss Elphaba,” she said distractedly, and then left, trailing perfume in her wake.

Elphaba’s thin fingers clutched at the spine of the book she’d unknowingly picked back up. Stupid Galinda and her perfume and her fancy dresses and her beauty—

Elphaba couldn’t name the feeling coursing through her, and she didn’t wish to. Instead, she hurled the book at the wall again and curled up and faced it, and it was this position Galinda found her in hours later when she stumbled into their room, drunk on whatever fruity drink Shenshen had bought her, thoughts floating through her head like soap bubbles too easily popped.

 

 

Soap bubbles. That’s all her thoughts were, pretty little bubbles flitting through her head and just as insubstantial.

She was drunk. She knew that, she knew she should have said no when Shenshen offered her that third drink, but she just... couldn’t.

It was easier to deal with, anyway—being drunk. Easier to deal with than where her thoughts had turned as of late. Those thoughts were not bubbles, they were thick and sticky like tar, black as pitch, and wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she wished them to.

Galinda flopped back on her bed, closed her eyes. She knew she should say something to her roommate, apologize for barging in the way she had, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

Two weeks and she’d barely spoken to the green girl, and—why? What was it about Miss Elphaba that made her tense so? The initial revulsion at her skin color was still there, if Galinda cared to think about it, but it had faded with time.

Maybe it was the damn _superiority_ with which Elphaba carried herself, not that she would have ever thought of it that way. But it intimidated Galinda, the way Elphaba seemed to know every subject while Galinda herself was struggling still through basic spells. She had always fancied herself smart before Shiz, but now...

She, Galinda of the Upper Uplands, hated feeling inferior to anyone. Especially the artichoke. She hated not knowing the answers when called on in class, the twisted feeling of jealousy that sparked in her gut whenever Elphaba raised her hand.

Sure, she’d poked fun at herself earlier—and why had she told Elphaba that anyway, how wrong she felt all the time?

She wished she hadn’t. It was more ammunition Elphaba could use against her, ammunition Galinda was sure she was storing away for a time when the blonde really irritated her, because that’s what her friends did, that’s what she would have done.

She wanted Elphaba to like her. She hated admitting this to herself, and even she didn’t understand the full reasoning behind it, but it was true. She desperately wanted her roommate’s approval, if only because Elphaba herself didn’t seem to care a whit about what anyone else thought.

Galinda cared, however. She cared a lot.

But these thoughts were too much in her drunk state, she reasoned. She’d sleep them off and go back to hating Elphaba in the morning. What she needed was air. Fresh air to clear her head.

So she pushed herself out of bed, careful not to make any noise, and opened the small window that sat squarely between the two beds, leaned her head out, and took a deep breath.

And then-

The window had been closed. Elphaba had closed the window, when she was so insistent on leaving it open.

Had she done it for her? Had she done it because she knew how much Galinda hated it?

More likely she’d done it to avoid the rain. Galinda didn’t know why Elphaba had such an aversion to water, and her roommate had never stated as much, but she’d seen it in the way she skittered from any drops, refused to touch her clothing until it was fully dry.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps Elphaba had closed it for herself, not for Galinda—it couldn’t have been for Galinda. It was a silly thought to think that it had.

Galinda sighed and drew her head back in, shutting the window before she retired to her bed.

If she hadn’t been drunk, she might have noticed that the sky was completely clear, the windowsill dry, that no rain had come.


	2. Dreams and Wants

Morning came early and insistent, sunlight streaming through the windowpane. Neither spoke of the window until later—Galinda hadn’t even meant to bring it up, it had just slipped out of her mouth carelessly, like most things she said.

“You closed the window.”

Elphaba startled, looking up from the book she was reading. “I did not.”

“It was closed when I came in last night, and you’re usually so adamant about leaving it open,” Galinda said. “I thought...”

A blush crawled up the green girl’s face, if you could call it a blush-she turned a darker green, not unlike the moss of the forest floor. It was almost, Galinda thought with a shock, pretty.

“What of it?” Elphaba said defensively, and turned back to her book. Galinda heard the rustling of pages, then, after a minute—“Did you have a nice evening out?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Galinda said, then realized how she sounded. “You could have come, you know,” she added in a softer tone.

Elphaba made a sound that was something between a laugh and a snort. “I don’t think your friends like me very much.”

“Well it’s not like you make much of an effort to be likable, Miss Elphaba.“

This time Elphaba did laugh. “What, because I’m green? Doesn’t give your friends the right to be cruel—and they are cruel, _Miss_ Galinda. I have heard them.”

“They’re just…” Galinda started, but the words faltered and died on her tongue. Even she couldn’t defend Pfannee and Shenshen. She knew they were vapid, cruel girls, but she’d been raised to care what others thought, care what her social status was. Sometimes she wished she were more like Elphaba, wished she could display that sort of brazen disregard for what others thought.

Then again, Elphaba probably did care, she was just much better at hiding it.

“I don’t tolerate them because they openly dislike me. I don’t see how you stand them,” Elphaba said. “Then again, you seem to not care for me one way or the other, so I suppose they’d bother you less.”

“I do care for you!” Galinda said, and then gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Both girls looked startled.

The room was quiet for a solid minute. If Galinda stilled herself, she could almost hear her roommate breathing.

“Please don’t tease me, Miss Galinda,” Elphaba said flatly, breaking the silence.

Galinda blinked. _That_ wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “Why would I tease about that?” she asked, indignant.

“Because you see me as a joke! As an artichoke, a green bean, as something less than human because that is what I am. You could not—cannot—possibly care for me except to run back and tell your friends what a fool you made of me!”

Elphaba was shrieking, standing, it was the first time Galinda had ever seen her truly upset. The air around her seemed to vibrate; Galinda could feel her hair on edge. Her hands were clenched into emerald fists, brown eyes sparking like embers.

“Elphaba—Elphaba, stop!” Galinda yelled, and the charge in the air dissipated as quickly as it had come. Elphaba’s fists were still tight, her chest heaving. She collapsed on her bed, burying her face in her hands.

Galinda couldn’t tell if she was crying or not. But then through long, green fingers Elphaba looked up at her, brown eyes pinning Galinda where she stood.

“You called me Elphaba,” she said.

“Well, yes. That’s your name, isn’t it?” Galinda said, her own face growing hot. She’d known, probably, what she was doing when she dropped the honorific but goodness’ sake, she hadn’t been _thinking_ about it, she’d just wanted Elphaba to stop whatever magic she was doing.

“It’s not something I’m usually addressed by—my name,” Elphaba said. “So perhaps... perhaps you do care for me.”

“Of course I do,” Galinda said. “I... I may not readily admit it to anyone else, of course, but I do care for you.”

“Well,” Elphaba sighed. “At least that’s a start.”

 

 

 _Elphaba_.

The word rang strange in her own ears.

She thought it was the wind.

(It may have been the wind.)

What a thing—to be called her own name, to be seen as a person. She had not heard her name used in years. It was always hidden, buried beneath _green bean artichoke that thing, that monstrous thing what ever is wrong with it what ever is wrong with you, Fabala-_

She stopped walking, hands clutching the folds of her black skirts, choking back sudden tears because there was a name she never, ever wanted to hear again.

 _Elphaba_.

She whispered the word again. It didn’t sound real; but when she said it, when Galinda said it—it sounded like something more than Elphaba could ever dream of wanting.

 

 

The soap bubbles had turned to tar again.

She’d known they would. She’d known they would since the green girl’s name escaped her lips.

 _Elphaba_.

She liked the sound of it. She liked saying it, and she imagined ways she’d say it in other situations, ways that maybe involved fewer clothing, and those thoughts stuck inside her brain and wouldn’t let go.

But she wasn’t supposed to have those thoughts. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking these things. She was Galinda of the Upper Uplands, dammit, and girls from the Upper Uplands did _not_ think about kissing girls. Especially not their green roommate.

Oh, the Unnamed God would curse her for thinking such things.

But she thought them anyway.

 

 

Elphaba finally entered their dorm hours later. Galinda was sitting on her bed, reading—to Elphaba’s surprise—a book. One of _Elphaba’s_ books.

“What’re you doing?” Elphaba asked, and Galinda slammed the book shut.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I don’t understand why you’re reading that,” Elphaba said, and Galinda’s cheeks flushed. She knew Elphaba wasn’t saying it to be cruel, but it stung all the same.

“I’m trying to understand you,” she said finally, huffily.

Elphaba barked a laugh. “Why in Oz’s name would you ever try to understand me?”

But a spark ran through her chest, one of those wicked thoughts flitted across her brain.

No. She couldn’t think that, it was evil and wicked and there was no way in Oz Galinda would ever feel that way about her.

“Because we’re friends, Elphie,” Galinda said.

Elphaba quirked an eyebrow. “Elphie?”

Galinda shrugged. “Yeah. Like a nickname. I think it’s cute.”

“Might be a bit too cheery for me,” Elphaba said, but she felt a secret thrill at it.

Her name. Now a nickname. Much better than Fabala,. Elphie almost made her sound like a normal girl, a girl who might have had friends. Part of her thought it was all a trick, a lie, that any minute Galinda was going to run away and leave and laugh at her.

But what an effort this would be for a prank. Reading those awful Unionist books, a nickname—Galinda didn’t have it in her to be _that_ cruel.

“Elphie,” she whispered to herself, and felt her face grow hot, her palms begin to sweat. She turned and looked at Galinda, whose face was now a bright pink, and her heart thudded louder in her chest.

What was she thinking? What was going on in her brain, thoughts hidden under the porcelain veneer of makeup and carelessness?

“Do you, um... would you maybe... want to go to that party this week?” Galinda asked, almost shyly.

Elphaba blinked. “Party?”

“Mmhm. Shenshen and Pfannee invited me. At the old Erstwhile Club, near the city.”

Elphaba’s heart sunk at the mention of Galinda’s friends. “I’m not one for parties, Miss Galinda. You know that.”

“Oh please stop calling me that,” Galinda snapped, then softened. “We’re friends now. Galinda is fine. And I—I want you to come, I think you’d have fun.”

Something about Galinda’s tone told Elphaba she couldn’t argue. And to be near Galinda, for a whole night, maybe to go out and drink and have _fun_ for once in her life, and if it was dark enough in the club and they were close enough to the city no one would gawk at her—

“Maybe,” she said, and Galinda clapped her hands in delight.

But the sinking feeling in Elphaba’s stomach only grew more.


	3. Fickle-Hearted

The Erstwhile Club was dimly lit, dark jade bulbs casting everything in a soft green glow. Galinda loved it instantly. Elphaba did not. She crossed her arms over her slender figure, feeling too exposed in a dress she’d borrowed from Galinda, a plain purple one with long sleeves that cost hundreds more than it should have, she knew. 

The minute she stepped through the door she regretted it.

 _I don’t wear pretty things_ , she’d told Galinda when her roommate insisted on trying on that ridiculous hat. And this was why. She felt ridiculous. Pretty things were a curse, they were not meant for a green girl like her. 

Galinda was already floating around the room like she did, laughing and smiling and charming her way into everyone’s good graces. Elphaba watched her with envy, the graceful way she said hello to strangers, the way the lamplight gave her a soft, almost ethereal glow. Elphaba found herself holding her breath, but for what, she did not know. 

Pfannee and Shenshen burst through the doors seconds later, and upon seeing Galinda, practically squealed with delight. Elphaba shrank further against the wall but found herself, suddenly, with a hand upon her wrist. Her first instinct was to freeze, to conjure up magic, to do something anything to save herself.

But it was only Galinda.

“Miss Elphaba, you’re being no fun,” Galinda said, adding back the honorific in front of her friends. “Come, let me introduce you to my friends and we can dance.”

“I don’t dance, Miss Galinda,” Elphaba said, trying to slow her heart, quell the fear and the magic already racing through her veins.

But Galinda pretended like she hadn’t heard her, so Elphaba let herself be dragged into the center of the room where Galinda’s friends were waiting—Pfannee, with her eyes large and owlish, and Shenshen, her lips painted a bright, almost orange-red. Elphaba consoled herself with the thought that neither looked as lovely as she thought they would, and certainly not as lovely as Galinda did.

But that was a wicked thought. 

“Miss Elphaba, may I present my friends, Miss Pfannee, of Colwen Grounds, and Miss Shenshen of Frottica.” 

Both girls curtsied like they were at a ball. Elphaba had to do all she could to stifle a laugh, since each girl’s dress was so frilly she feared they would topple over. 

“And I am Miss Elphaba the Delirious,” Elphaba said, and Galinda caught her eye and a smile grew on her face before it was quickly snuffed out.

“Pleasure,” Pfannee sniffed, but neither girl moved to shake Elphaba’s hand. 

No matter. 

The music quickly started up again and Elphaba turned to see a band in the corner—an Animal band, no less, with a Raccoon on mandolin and a Goat playing some sort of strange drum. A man was with them, playing the violin, probably for the best since he had fingers. The music was a lively sort of Quadling waltz, one that sounded almost like something from Elphaba’s childhood, and before she knew it she was swaying to the music. Pfannee and Shenshen were standing off to the sides, giggling, but for once in her short life, Elphaba didn’t care. The room was hazy and smoke-filled, the light was green, and here in this dress she felt almost—

beautiful. 

 

Galinda watched her friend as she twirled, and those feelings started up in her gut again. 

“I daresay she has nerve,” Pfannee said, lip curling. “Ozness knows if it was me who looked like that I’d never leave my dorm.” 

Galinda bit her lip at the cruel comments. She thought Elphaba looked lovely, thought the way the soft light looked on her skin turned her a beautiful, effervescent shade of emerald. She looked like a dream. She didn’t look human, and Galinda wanted to reach out and touch her to make sure she was real. Her hand almost floated out from her side, and then— 

A boy came up. He was handsome, she supposed, in that way boys from the city could be—light brown skin, almost silver hair, his expensive coat a deep, rich purple. She felt Pfannee and Shenshen shift beside her, nervously giggling. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, and the girls tittered, but the stranger was staring directly at Galinda. 

She couldn’t see Elphaba anymore. And she realized, then, how foolish she’d been—what? Would Elphaba dance with her, here? With her friends and all these people around? Would she dare dance with her? 

“That would be lovely,” Galinda demurred, and the stranger smiled and signaled for two drinks. 

 

Elphaba’s eyes were closed, and the music was pouring through her, and she felt—alive. Full of Life, full of something she hadn’t felt since she was small, since she sang. 

And then it was shattered.The music had stopped and she opened her eyes and Galinda was at the bar with a man—a boy?—a man, drinking and laughing and touching his wrist and— 

She’d been so stupid to come here. Stupid to think Galinda invited her because she wanted her here, and she kept the pain off her face so Pfannee and Shenshen wouldn’t see. Not like they were paying her mind, anyhow. Their eyes were fixed on the stranger with Galinda.

 _Stupid girl_ , she thought to herself. _Stupid, fickle heart_. 

She left the club without looking back, and walked home, so furious she didn’t even notice when it began to rain.

 

The man’s lips were warm against Galinda’s skin, though not unpleasantly so, and her head was fuzzy.

Oz, how many drinks had she had?

No matter. The kissing was pleasant enough. Pleasant enough she didn’t even notice the rain. 

But then his hands started to wander, and Galinda felt her resolve weakening—how many drinks?

“No,” she mumbled against his ear, but his hands continued to wander. 

“No,” she said again, but his hands were fumbling with her bodice, and she had the sense still to thank Oz she’d worn something difficult to get undone.

The rain was coming harder now, and she was chilled, and slowly becoming more sober—

Where were Pfannee and Shenshen? Hadn’t they promised to walk her home after Elphaba left? For Oz’s sake, where was Elphaba?

“Let her go,” said a voice, a husky one, low. Galinda thought it might have been the wind, but then the man’s hands were gone. And there was a sickening crack and a low “ _you bitch_ ” and then his lips were gone and Galinda was wet and cold and shivering and too, entirely sober.

“Come on, up you go,” the voice husked, and Galinda found her arm slung over a thin, bony shoulder. 

“Elphaba?” 

“Shh,” the green girl muttered. “Don’t talk until we get back, all right? You’re not well.”

But she was—just drunk, just— 

The green girl’s weight felt nice against Galinda’s own, and she found herself leaning into her more until Elphaba stumbled. 

“You are going to have to walk, you know,” Elphaba said, not unkindly. 

“Sorry,” Galinda murmured, and took a few hesitant steps forward, Elphaba wincing along beside her. She didn’t notice the green girl’s burns until they got back to the dormitory, in the light of their small room.

“Elphaba, you’re hurt!” Galinda cried, all trace of her earlier fuzziness gone. 

Elphaba jerked her arms away, but Galinda could see the burns through the gauzy sleeves of the dress she’d lent her, and dark bruises in the shape of fingerprints where the man had grabbed her.

“It’s Miss Elphaba,” she snapped. “And I’m fine.” 

“Elphie…”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Elphaba said harshly. She turned her back to Galinda. “Please close your eyes so I can get these things off of me. I’m sorry I ruined your dress.”

Galinda waved a hand. “Please. It’s not like I don’t have others.” She smiled what she thought was a kind smile at her roommate, but after a severe stare from Elphaba, she closed her eyes. 

Curiosity overcame her then, however, and she opened them. She immediately wished she hadn’t. 

Elphaba was thin, thinner than Galinda thought, faded silvery scars crisscrossing her shoulders, with red blotches—Oz, had the _water_ done that to her? The criss-crossing scars were too exact, though. And she was staring, and those thoughts were creeping in, even now— 

 _Stop it_ , she admonished herself.. 

Elphaba pulled a thin, dark shift over her head, quickly retying that silky black hair into a thick braid before pulling it over her shoulder. 

“Elph—Miss Elphaba…” Galinda started, though she didn’t know what she was going to say.

“Don’t,” Elphaba said again, before settling herself on her bed with a book hiding her face. 

Galinda stared at her. “That’s all you have to say? _Don’t_?” 

“What else do you want from me?” Elphaba said, looking up, her eyes meeting Galinda’s. “You invite me out to this club with your _awful_ friends, put me in some frilly frock like I’m some kind of spectacle to be laughed at, and then you abandon me for some—some—and I have to come rescue you from some alley—”

“I didn’t ask you to rescue me! I didn’t _need_ you to save me, just because you’re too _frigid_ —”

“Do _not_ ,” Elphaba growled, “make this about me.” 

“I don’t see why you’re so upset!” 

“Oh, don’t you? You brought me out like I was just some—some _thing_ didn’t you? So your friends could laugh at me, let’s all have a laugh at the green girl,” Elphaba spat. 

“That’s not—”

“Then what is it, then?! Why in Oz would you ever—”

“Because I like you!” Galinda shrieked. “You know for someone so clever you sure are blind.”

Elphaba laughed, a cruel sound. “Blind?” 

“Yes, blind, you daft idiot if you can’t see—” _how I feel about you_ was what almost came out of her mouth, but she stopped herself in time.

“If I can’t see what?” Elphaba asked. 

Galinda shook her head. “Just that… that tonight didn’t go the way I wished it, either.”

Elphaba snorted. “I’d say it went about exactly how you planned.” 

“Just because the world has treated you cruelly doesn’t mean everyone will—”

“Oh, doesn’t it?” she spat. 

“No,” Galinda said softly. “No. It doesn’t. And I’m sorry if I—if I treated you cruelly, at first, because we… we are friends, aren’t we?” 

The word took Elphaba by surprise. 

 _Friends_. Friendship. With Galinda, who was her opposite in about every way possible. 

Were they friends?

Did she even want them to be friends? 

Oz’s sake, was friendship even possible for her? 

She’d been told it wasn’t. Told all her life no one would want her, want to be near her, desire her or her company. It was better if she was left alone, and time proved that to be true. No one wanted to be near her, even Nessarose, and as time went on she didn’t want to be near anyone herself. 

But here was Galinda, offering friendship. 

Elphaba could not dare hope for more.

“I suppose we are—friends,” she said carefully. 

And then Galinda squealed, running towards her and hugging the taller girl with a strength Elphaba was surprised to find she possessed. “Oh Miss Elphaba, I am so sorry for tonight—I’m sorry for abandoning you, and I’m sorry for my awful friends—well they aren’t really my friends—and I…” Galinda swallowed. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me in that alley.” 

Elphaba shuddered. She knew what would have happened to Galinda, she knew it all too well. 

“Good thing I did, then,” she said, carefully extracting herself from Galinda’s embrace. She was suddenly too aware of how long they’d been holding onto each other and how close Galinda’s face has been to her own and how loud the thump of her own heart in her ears was. 

She resisted the urge to wrench back, purge the ugly thoughts heading through her brain.

Not now. Not now. 

“Seriously,” Galinda said, settling herself on the bed next to Elphaba, legs almost-but-not-quite touching. “Thank you. What… were you doing out there, anyway? It was raining.” 

“I was going home,” Elphaba said. “ I left early and I was walking away but then something told me to turn around and I did and—there you were.” 

Galinda swallowed. “What did you do to the man? The one I was with?” 

Elphaba knew she couldn’t bring herself to answer that question. 

“Don’t worry about him, love,” she said, the term slipping easily from her mouth. It was one she had used with Nessa, when she was smaller, but with Galinda it felt different. It felt right, and the weight of it felt… 

Right.

She felt Galinda tense beside her. “Miss Elphaba—”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Elphaba said quickly, standing up. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, Elphaba—” Galinda reached out, grabbed her hand. Something like magic, like a spark, passed through Elphaba’s skin when she did, and she wanted to jerk away.

But she didn’t.

“Aren’t you tired of hiding?” Galinda asked, voice so soft Elphaba thought she might not have heard her at first.

“I’m green, Miss Galinda. I don’t exactly _hide_.” 

The use of the honorific caused Galinda to drop her hand, and Elphaba cursed in her head for being so _stupid_. 

“We need to sleep, it’s been a long night,” Elphaba said, and Galinda got up from her bed without a word and crossed to her own side of the room. She changed wordlessly and Elphaba didn’t turn around to look at her. 

But when she turned the bedside lamp off, she said “Good night, love.” 

And in the darkness, Elphaba Thropp smiled.


	4. Half-Truths and Full Lies

The girls grew closer, though only privately so; in public they stuck to their separate circles. Well, Galinda stuck to her circle, Elphaba was, as usual, alone. Sometimes she would sneak a smile over at Galinda during history, or a light brush of fingers when she passed her in the hall, small gestures that no one else noticed but sent a thrill through Galinda every time. They spent nights up talking, mostly about what Elphaba was reading that night. They didn’t dare discuss any deeper topics; whether out of nerves or a desire to keep the tentative peace between them, neither knew. 

“Are you going to Morrible’s poetry reading?” Galinda asked one evening, as she sat at her vanity and applied blush to her pale cheeks. 

“I suppose,” Elphaba said. “Dr. Dillamond said he was going to be there.”

“The goat?” Galinda said. From the mirror she saw Elphaba glance up sharply. 

“The _Goat_ ,” she corrected pointedly, accenting the G. “And he’s more than that, he’s a brilliant scientist. You should hear him lecture.” 

“Mm,” Galinda said, feigning disinterest. Truthfully, she was fascinated, though she’d never let Elphaba know that. She’d passed by the lecture hall when Dr. Dillamond was lecturing on more than one occasion, lingering shortly to study Elphaba through the window, head bent while she scribbled notes so the tip of her pointed green nose nearly touched parchment. 

She’d only watched for a second for fear of someone seeing her, but she was always enthralled with how Alive Elphaba looked during those lectures, passionate like she was in few other subjects. 

Galinda wanted to be part of that. 

“He’s asked me to help with his research, you know,” Elphaba said after a minute.

“Oh? Will you?” 

“I believe so,” Elphaba said. Galinda heard the pages of her book rustling as she set it down. “Are you going to the reading?” Elphaba asked after a minute as Galinda swiped brown mascara over pale lashes. “Or are you going out?” 

“Elphaba, everyone will be at the poetry reading. It would be social suicide if I didn’t show,” Galinda said. 

“You’re dressed like you’re going out.” 

“Well, one must always make a good impression,” Galinda said, echoing the words she’d heard throughout her childhood. 

Elphaba cackled in that way she did. “I make an impression, love, though whether or not it’s a good one is up to the judgment of others.” 

“You could if you tried.”

“Mm.”

“You could!” Galinda said emphatically, turning around on her stool. “Oh Elphie you could be so pretty, we could use some mascara—I do believe I’ve got something violet that would look _stunning_ on you—”

So caught up was Galinda in her plans she didn’t notice the way Elphaba stiffened at the word _pretty_ , even further still at the mention of makeup. She did notice when the air became charged, when the small tube of foundation on her vanity began to levitate. 

“Elphaba?” 

Elphaba’s hands were outstretched in front of her, like they had a mind of their own. Her face was screwed in concentration, or pain, or anger, or some combination of the three. 

“Elphaba!” 

Elphaba gasped, opened her eyes, and the tube of foundation began falling to the ground, but Galinda reached out a hand and stopped it before gently floating it back to her dresser.

A spark went through her. She had done _magic_ , done it without thinking. 

But so had Elphaba. And Elphaba’s magic felt far more dangerous. 

“Are you all right?” Galinda asked. 

Elphaba shook her head. “I’m fine.” 

“Was it something I said?” 

“Please drop it, Galinda,” Elphaba said flatly. She gripped the edge of her mattress, closed her eyes like she was trying very, very hard to forget something. 

“Elphaba…”

“I don’t. Want. To talk about it,” Elphaba bit out. She stood abruptly. “I’ll see you at the poetry reading, okay?” 

Before Galinda could respond, Elphaba was gone, leaving the door swinging and a trace of magic in her wake. 

 

Her thoughts raced as she headed to the library, the only place that felt safe in that moment. 

_Don’t you want to be pretty?_

She bit her lip. She wouldn’t go there. Not now. Couldn’t. She found a back corner of the library and huddled in a chair, breathed in parchment and old books and must and dust and _safe_. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t think about _pretty_ or the magic she did or Galinda, always Galinda.

Elphaba shook her head. She knew she should be heading to the poetry reading soon, knew Morrible would expect her there. But not yet. She was still rattled by what had happened, and Oz knew she couldn’t let anyone see her rattled. Rattled meant weakness which meant teasing which meant— 

_Stop._

The voice was her own, and too late she realized she’d spoken out loud. There was no way she was going to that reading. 

But then something mechanical whirred by, and Elphaba instinctively drew in on herself, used the shadows of her dark clothing to render herself nearly invisible. It was Grommetik, Morrible’s tik-tok henchman. Its gears whirred and spun as it turned down the aisle where Elphaba was still crouched in the chair.

She stilled herself. Didn’t breathe. A sharp _clack_ of heels on the wooden floor caused Grommetik to wheel around, away from Elphaba, who let out a breath. 

After that, there was no way she was staying there. She gathered herself reluctantly and headed to the poetry reading. 

 

Elphaba was nowhere to be found when Galinda returned from the reading, more shaken and affronted about the last Quell than she wanted to let on. Her late-night conversations with Elphaba had sparked something in her, a sentiment not unlike caring, a fierce sort of tenderness towards Animals she hadn’t possessed before. 

Oz, where _was_ Elphaba? 

She thought of the way she’d fled from their room that afternoon, when Galinda had insisted on her being pretty. 

What had she said? Had she even said anything? Elphaba’s magic had spiraled out of control and Galinda hoped (Oz, she hoped) that she hadn’t been the cause of it. 

She’d walked into the reading like nothing was wrong, munching on an apple and plopping herself down next to Galinda like she hadn’t a care in the world. Told off that Munchkinlander, Boq, with her usual sass. 

But then. After the last Quell, Dr. Dillamond’s outburst, she was silent. Head in hands the rest of the evening.

Galinda threw herself onto her fluffy bed, not caring that her dress was getting wrinkled. She was tired, and she didn’t want to think, and she wanted a drink.

Oz, she wanted a drink. She wanted to forget. Wanted to pop the sticky soap bubble thoughts about Elphaba so she wouldn’t have to experience them. 

And then the door opened, and there stood Elphaba, face furiously set. 

Galinda leapt up from her bed. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Elphaba said. She shut the door and went and flung open the window, then, before Galinda could stop her, stuck her head out and screamed. 

Galinda sat on the bed, waiting. 

Elphaba, after a minute, pulled her head back in and smoothed her hands over her dress, seemingly calmer.

“Are you… all right?” Galinda ventured to ask. 

“I’m fine,” Elphaba said again, turning her back to Galinda and untying her hair. “Fine.” 

“You don’t seem fine.” 

“Yes, well,” Elphaba said. She turned around to face Galinda. “Would you mind closing your eyes so I can change?” 

“Elphie…”

“ _Miss_ Elphaba.”

So they were back to that again. 

Galinda pouted, but she turned, though she couldn’t resist sneaking a glance in her mirror at Elphaba. 

Had she grown thinner? It occurred to Galinda she’d never seen Elphaba eat, save for the apple she’d obnoxiously been munching on during the Quells. 

“What are those scars?” Galinda blurted out, then covered her mouth with her hands.

“I told you not to look,” Elphaba said, but there was no malice in her voice, just a cold statement of fact. “Didn’t your mother teach you propriety? You mentioned she taught you of appearances.”

Galinda’s face flushed hot. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

Elphaba shrugged. “I had no mother, I can’t tell you whether these things are polite or not. Though you see me, I’ve never cared for being polite.” 

“No, I know,” Galinda said. It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat. She ran her fingers through her curls, too aware of Elphaba’s hawkish gaze on her. “So are you going to tell me?” 

Elphaba sighed. Shrugged. Sat down on her bed and immediately went to fidget with her hair, tying and retying her braid.

Oz, was she… was she nervous?

“You don’t have to,” Galinda said in a rush. “If you don’t want.” 

Elphaba smiled, but it was a cruel, twisted one. “It’s a bit too late for that, love.” 

The endearment felt wrong, this time, coming out of her mouth. Galinda winced, hoping Elphaba didn't notice. 

“What do you want to know?” she asked. 

“I… about your scars.”

“But that's not all, is it?” Elphaba said, cocking her head. “You asked about Make-up earlier today. About being pretty.”

Galinda sat down next to the green girl. Too late she could smell the alcohol coming off the girl, too late she wanted some for herself. 

“You're drunk,” Galinda said, standing. 

“Barely.”

“Oh, I would know,” Galinda said. “Where did you even get alcohol?”

“Morrible had some out for the visiting lecturers after the reading—well. The human lecturers,” Elphaba said bitterly. “I can go unnoticed when I want to, dear.” 

“I'm not talking to you when you're drunk,” Galinda said. Her heart thrummed at the smell of alcohol, her fingers itched to find a bottle. 

“Then you shouldn't have looked when I told you not to.”

“Oz, Elphaba, do you have to be so difficult?” Galinda demanded, standing. 

“I'm afraid that's just who I am.”

“Not all the time, no,” Galinda said softly. Elphaba laughed. 

“Is that why you avoid me in public, then?”

“I… I do not,” Galinda stammered. 

“Oh, so tonight, then. When you sat with Pfannee and Shenshen, all but preferred Master Boq’s company over mine.” Elphaba’s words were beginning to slur, dark brown eyes growing heavy-lidded.  

“Go to sleep, Elphie,” Galinda said. “You're drunk. I don't want to talk to you.”

“You never do.”

Galinda knew it was the alcohol talking, but Oz, it still stung anyway. 

She headed back to her side of the room, turned the light off. 

“Good night, Elphaba.”

There was no response. 

 

Galinda woke before Elphaba the next morning, a rare occurrence as the green girl was usually up far earlier, reading or studying at the library. But not this morning. Elphaba was still asleep, one arm draped over the bed,  tendrils of black hair falling over her face. 

She looked peaceful, more so than Galinda had ever seen her. The frown that was usually ever-present between Elphaba’s dark eyebrows was gone.

Galinda pulled her knees up to her chest and watched her sleeping roommate. What would it be like, to fall asleep beside her, cheek pressed against her back and an arm around her waist?

She really, really shouldn’t be thinking such things. 

Elphaba stirred and unnervingly opened one eye so she was looking right at Galinda, who flushed furiously. It was like she could tell what she’d been thinking, like she could _see_ it. 

“Sleep well?” Galinda asked, when she’d found her words. 

“Mm,” Elphaba said noncommittally, still starting at Galinda. She brushed her hair behind her ear. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” she asked. 

Oz, she did know. She had to know or else she wouldn’t be looking at Galinda in such a way. Elphaba shifted and sat up, thin brown blanket drawn over her knees and her arms crossed so she was a mirror of Galinda.

Galinda looked away. “No,” she said. But her fingers tapping restlessly on her knees said otherwise. 

“Then why are you blushing?”

Was she? Stupid fair skin, turning pink at any sign of embarrassment. 

And then, realization struck—Was Elphaba... was Elphaba _flirting_ with her?

“No reason,” Galinda said, trying desperately to keep her racing heart under control, and wishing she knew enough sorcery to make herself disappear. “Are you feeling better?”

Elphaba shrugged. “Fine. Headache.”

“Do you want anything for it? Water?” 

Elphaba smirked. “I can’t drink it but it’s a nice sentiment, love.”

“Anything you can drink?”

“Milk,” Elphaba said. 

Galinda stood immediately, if only to give herself something to do. “I’ll go to the kitchen and fetch some,” she said quickly, and then she was gone. 

Her heart raced all the way down to the kitchen. 

But Elphaba couldn’t like her. Didn’t. It was clear from the previous night’s behavior she didn’t. 

Still. The way she’s looked at her this morning...

Galinda shook her head. Elphaba was tired. And hungover. And still angry from the Quells and the fact she’d woken up looking at Galinda was nothing more than pure coincidence. 

Wasn’t it?

 

Elphaba stared at the wall, head pounding. 

Oz, she shouldn’t have drunk what she did. Shouldn’t have drunk it at all. 

She didn’t know why she did. She just wanted to forget her anger at Morrible, at the injustice of everything, at…

At Galinda. 

She put her pillow over her face and muffled a scream. She _was_ angry at Galinda and she didn’t want to be. 

No. Not angry. Jealous. Jealous at the attention her roommate was giving everyone else, while still ignoring her. Jealous at the easy way Galinda introduced herself to others, the genuine smiles her friends gave her. 

(Oz, she was just jealous of anyone who talked to Galinda without snapping at her.)

They’d grown closer since the incident with the window, since the party, but Elphaba hadn’t—couldn’t—dare hope that Galinda would reciprocate her feelings. 

She gnawed at her bottom lip, her pointed canines digging in until she drew blood. 

And when she got up, went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, the girl who smiled back with a bloody smile wasn’t someone she would ever want to love. 

 

She liked her.

Oz, she didn’t want to think it but the truth barreled through her brain with no inclination of stopping.

She _liked_ Elphaba. 

Galinda tried to shove the thought out of her brain but it was no use. The closer she came to the tiny dorm room the two shared, the more it invaded her head like a parasite. The closer she came, the more her hands shook, until they nearly threatened to spill the glass of milk she was holding. 

“Elphaba?” she called as she knocked on the door.

Nothing. 

Galinda carefully opened the door to their room and stopped in the entrance, struck suddenly by the stark difference in their sides of the room. Galinda’s was feminine, frilly, overflowing with comfort and pastel colors, flowers in spring. Rows of shoes sat on a dresser, next to a vanity filled with every kind of magical makeup she could hope to possess. Elphaba’s was drab. Not even that, it was _uncomfortable_ , thin brown blanket and one pillow that looked like Elphaba had slept on it for years. Clothes hung in a closet that were nothing more than thin, dark shifts. 

If Galinda’s side was flowers in spring, Elphaba’s was the dead of winter, desolate and barren. Galinda carefully set the mug of milk on a crate Elphaba was using as a nightstand, the inside overflowing with books. 

A cough from behind the bathroom door caught her attention, and she turned. 

“Elphaba?” 

Nothing.

“I know you’re in there,” she said, marching up to the door and knocking. “I brought your milk if you want to come out.” 

Still nothing. And Galinda was becoming pretty tired of being ignored by the green girl. 

“Elphaba, I will magic open this door,” Galinda said, though she wasn't even sure that was something she was capable of. 

There was a long sigh. “Why can't you leave me alone?” Elphaba said, voice raw. 

“Because I’m your friend,” Galinda said. The words were automatic, yet as soon as they exited her mouth, she knew they were true. “And I have your milk,” she added. “It’s worse when it’s hot, so if you don’t come out here and drink it I’ll have to take drastic measures.” 

The latch on the bathroom door clicked, and slowly, it opened. Elphaba’s face was downcast, hidden beneath a curtain of that thick black hair. When she looked up at Galinda, her bottom lip was bright red. 

“You’re bleeding,” Galinda said, and ushered Elphaba over to her bed. “Oh, Elphie…”

Elphaba didn’t correct her on the nickname. She held the piece of cloth that Galinda gave her to her lower lip and looked at her warily with dark eyes. 

“Is everything all right?” Galinda asked. Too late she realized she was staring at Elphaba’s thin lips, at the hand covering them with the cloth, and she tore her eyes away. 

“No,” Elphaba said. “It’s—it’s the Quells and the situation here and Morrible and this school and your awful friends and—and—”

She kissed her. Leaned over and gently placed her lips on Galinda’s. 

Galinda’s hands trembled in her lap. Elphaba’s lips were thin, but soft, and when she pulled away she left a faint metallic taste on Galinda’s tongue and an ache in her chest from wanting more. 

“I…” Galinda said, and she couldn’t find the words to express anything else. She knew what she should have said, should have felt disgust, horror, something— 

But all she felt was wanting. For once in her life she _wanted_ without stopping to think about why, about if it was right, if it was proper. 

And so she leaned over and kissed her roommate back.


	5. Secrets and Contradictions

Her head buzzed. She couldn’t sleep. The memory of Galinda’s lips on hers ran through her head over and over and over. 

She'd kissed her. Elphaba. Galinda had kissed _her._

It was more than she’d ever dared hope for. 

And that was why she had to ruin it. 

It couldn't last. She knew it wouldn't last. Nothing good ever lasted for her, and if she cut it off now, she'd spare herself the pain and heartbreak of later. She couldn't, wouldn't let it go farther. It was one kiss, a mistake, easily written off. 

It meant nothing.

But the tears on her cheeks burned like it did. 

 

On the other side of the room, Galinda lay awake, her eyes open, back to Elphaba.

Oz, what had she been thinking?

She _hadn’t_. That was the problem. She’d wanted Elphaba’s lips on her own and so she’d kissed her back when she should have pulled away, should have thought about what everyone else would say about her. 

She brought her fingers to her lips, like she could still feel Elphaba’s face near her own.

And lying in the dark, all she could think was how badly she wanted to kiss her again. 

 

She shouldn’t have kissed her.

She left the dorm room early the next morning, before Galinda even woke. She needed time and space to clear her head, to not be in the same room as the blonde. The grounds of Shiz were quiet. A fine dew coated the grass, and Elphaba was grateful for the sturdiness of her boots as she crossed to the library. 

But when she pulled on the door handle, it was locked. Frustrated, she kicked at the door. 

An echo came from inside. The sound of something whirring. Elphaba immediately flattened herself against the stone exterior—though how much good would that do, really? Black clothing and green skin on white walls. 

The door clicked. And just when she was certain she was going to be found, someone called her name from across the courtyard. 

“Miss Elphaba!” 

It was Doctor Dillamond, crossing the grounds. Even from her spot she could see bits of pastry stuck in his fur. 

“Doctor Dillamond,” she said, and nearly raced across the lawn, not daring to look back at the library. 

“Come to my office,” he said, putting a hoof on her shoulder and steering her decidedly away from the library. 

She hadn't interacted with Doctor Dillamond much outside of their time in the classroom or her time as his research assistant. Their interactions up to this point had been strictly academic, political, even, as they discussed the implications of his research and the ever-increasing ban on Animals. 

She followed the Goat to his office. In the light of early morning it was more cluttered than she was used to, papers and pens strewn everywhere. 

But Elphaba was used to making herself unseen, so she found a spot where there were fewer papers and awkwardly perched there. 

He didn't ask her what she’d been doing wandering the grounds early in the morning. He cleared a few papers off his desk, rummaged around. 

“Tea?” he asked, holding out a chipped mug. 

“No thank you,” Elphaba said. “The water, I…”

“Ah, yes. A curious allergy, I believe you've mentioned it before.” 

“It comes with the abnormal skin, I suppose,” she said. “I'll have milk if you have any.”

“I do not, unfortunately.” 

He smiled kindly at her. Doctor Dillamond was one of the few people who didn't flinch away from Elphaba’s harshness, and she found herself smiling back. These days, the only people who didn't flinch from her were him and… 

_Galinda._

She didn't want to think the girl’s name but there it was all the same. 

She folded her hands in her lap, looked up at the Goat, who was stirring his tea and studying her the way he typically studied his work. 

“Is something troubling you, Elphaba?” 

He'd never had use for the honorific, not with her. 

“I… the library,” she blurted out suddenly, if only to keep herself from talking about her roommate. “It was locked, and normally it isn't, and when I was in there the other week that _thing_ was in there. It's curious, isn't it?”

Doctor Dillamond made a sound something between a bleat and a snort. 

“Curious? Come, Elphaba, you're far more intelligent than that.”

“Sinister, then,” she corrected. “But I don't… forgive me but I don't see why she's got that thing lurking around the Crage Hall library. It's the only one open to women, therefore there's not a lot of information…”

The Goat studied her, smiling. “Yes, Elphaba, but it's the only library open to _you._ ” 

“Me?” The green girl threw back her head and laughed, a sound close to a cackle. “And what am I? A girl, nothing more.”

“If you believe that you are doing a disservice to yourself,” the Goat said. 

“Forgive me, sir, but that's all I've been raised to believe,” she challenged. “Hell and Oz, I didn't even believe I was a girl until recently. I thought I was just a thing, a spirit, sprung fully formed.” 

Doctor Dillamond laughed. “Then you must find someone to believe in you when you can't.”

Elphaba’s cheeks flushed a darker green. 

“Why?” she asked. “If what you say is true, Morrible views me as a threat. Why drag anyone else into that?” 

“Because if you try to do this alone you will fail.”

“Try to do what alone?” 

Dillamond took his glasses off, polished them like he was stalling. “My dear, what do you think we've been working on together all these months?” 

“Research?” she ventured. “You haven’t been incredibly forthcoming. And to be frank, I haven’t understood much of it.” 

Dillamond stood. “My research, Elphaba—that you’ve been helping with—would prove that there is no difference between the Animal and human brain. It would prove the Wizard’s Banns ineffective. It would, in essence, prove _the Wizard_ ineffective.” He polished his glasses again. “You must have picked up by now how Morrible is the Wizard’s spy. She is more dangerous than she looks.” 

“Yes, sir, but what—what does this have to do with me? I…” 

“Do you know why I picked you?” He asked. “To help with my research, I mean.” 

Elphaba was silent. She pulled her sleeves over her hands. The intensity with which Dr. Dillamond was looking at her was making her uncomfortable. 

“Because,” he continued. “You _think_. Out of everyone at this blasted university, you are one of the few who questions, who challenges authority. That is an admirable quality.” 

“So you’re saying I’m stubborn and obstinate, then,” she grinned. 

“Precisely.” The Goat grinned back. 

Elphaba glanced at the clock above his desk. “Unfortunately, I do need to get to lectures.” 

“Yes, well. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your education. Do you plan on helping me this week? We may be on the verge of something here.” 

“Of course,” she said. She stood, gathering her cloak and turning for the door. 

“Oh, Elphaba?” Doctor Dillamond called just as she’d reached the door to his office. 

She turned. “Sir?” 

“If there’s anyone you can trust with this information, I suggest you do so. The time is too dark now to continue without friends.” 

Shame burned in her chest as she thought of Galinda. 

“And Elphaba?” 

“Hm?”

He looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Don’t push her away because you want to keep her safe. It never works, in the end.” 

The gaze he leveled her with was full of meaning, and she turned away from his accusing stare before she could think too hard about what it meant. 

 

Her head was swimming with thoughts as she left Doctor Dillamond’s office. Thoughts about Galinda and Morrible and taking down the Wizard—

It was all too much.

So consumed was she she didn’t even see Boq walking towards her, not until she’d bumped into him and knocked several books out of his arms.

“Oh, I’m—Oh. It’s you,” she said, watching him scramble to pick up his texts. 

“I suppose if it were anyone else you would have apologized and offered to help,” he said, disgruntled. 

“Perhaps, though I still haven’t forgiven you for assuming you know me.” 

“But I _do_ ,” he began, and straightened up. He barely came up to her shoulder, and his fair, sandy hair was mussed like he hadn’t slept. She almost took some pity on him. “No matter how you want to deny it, we did play together as children in Rush Hardings.” 

She waved a hand in the air. “My memories of childhood are hazy at best. Though perhaps it’s true. I am sorry I bumped into you,” she added, almost as an afterthought. 

They stood under a stone archway connecting two of the Crage Hall buildings, the early morning wind whistling through the arches. Elphaba pulled her cap lower over her hair, her braid whipping behind her. The pages rustled in Boq’s arms. 

“Where are you coming from so early?” he asked. 

“A meeting with Doctor Dillamond.” 

“Oh, you will have to tell me what he’s like, one of these days. Is he as brilliant as everyone says?” 

“More so,” she responded. “Why he picked me I have no idea.” The lie almost stuck its way in her throat. “And what are you up to?” 

He shrugged. “Going to the library. I’m afraid I’m behind in everything.”

She thought of the locked library door, the frightening mechanic whirring of Grommetik every time she stepped foot in there. “Not the Crage Hall one? It’s locked.” 

He gave her a puzzled look. “No. Briscoe.”

“Ah. The one open only to men,” she said, spitting the words out of her mouth with acidity. 

“I could get you in, if you like,” Boq said. He looked down at his books as he said it, as if he were issuing the invitation to them. “Only if you do something for me.”

“Always a price, isn’t there?” she said. But her tone wasn’t light, or teasing. Just matter-of-fact. Elphaba’s world existed in treaties and bargains and debts to be paid. “What do you want? I’m not a sorceress, I can’t make you look less like a frog.” 

She regretted the words when she said them, and he flinched, but looked up at her appraisingly. “Could you introduce me to Miss Galinda?” 

Galinda’s name burned like fire through her chest. “Whatever for?” 

“Come, Elphaba, you’re not that dense,” Boq said, almost pleading. 

“Forget it, I’ll find another way in,” she said. “I’ll seduce Master Avaric if I have to, I’m sure he’d be open to the thought.” 

“Elphaba…” Boq reached out, placed a hand on her elbow. She started at the contact but didn’t pull away. “Just an introduction. It’s harmless, really.” 

“What do you hope to gain out of an introduction, Boq?” she asked. “She’s my roommate. It’s not like I know her well, not like I have some ability to magic the two of you together.” 

He nodded. “I know. But with you there, it’d be less of a buffer. Less awkward, I suppose.” 

He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, she knew. But Oz, she didn’t want to do it, she just wanted to keep Galinda to herself, just wanted—

She just wanted to kiss her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter here! I promise there'll be more soon.


	6. Drowning or Burning

She avoided Galinda all day, ducking into corners whenever she glimpsed blonde curls in the corridor. She dreaded going back to her dorm that evening, could barely concentrate during lectures. When Madame Morrible, who taught a (very biased, in Elphaba’s opinion) lecture on early pagan and Unionist writings, asked a question, Elphaba’s hand didn't shoot into the air like it normally did. 

She ate alone. Not like that was unusual for her, she normally ate alone. But this time she made a conscious effort to hide where she was eating. Normally she ate in the courtyard with the other students, normally she could see Galinda’s golden curls from her spot beneath a quoxwood tree. 

Normally. 

But today she sat down by the lake, a place she hardly ever dared venture, and a place no one else frequented now that the weather was growing colder. 

She mulled over Dillamond’s words. His offer. A chance to be involved in research, a chance to make a difference, to stop the Banns, to… 

But what could she do? She was seventeen, and she was impertinent, and she was _green._ She was already being watched by Morrible for her outburst at the poetry readings, and now, thanks to Dillamond’s warning, it was possible Morrible suspected her of helping the Goat as well. 

Still, there was nothing she could do about that at the moment. It wasn’t forbidden for lecturers to take on research assistants during the semester. Right now, for the moment, there was nothing Morrible could do to stop the two of them. 

But a shiver ran down her spine all the same. 

 _You won’t be able to do this without friends_.

She thought of Galinda. Of the way the girl had been questioning everything lately, since the Quells. The way her blue eyes turned stormy and serious whenever Elphaba asked her a question. There had been no flippant responses as of late, no comments about how Galinda simply didn’t _think_. There was a brain, a heart hidden under the porcelain veneer and makeup, there was a _soul_. Not that Elphaba believed in the concept of a soul, but if anyone was to have one, Galinda was beginning to show signs. 

But if she let on… if she brought Galinda into the folds of her research, if she continued to kiss her like she wanted…

It was too dangerous for Galinda to know. Too dangerous to tell her of the research, of her work with Dillamond. Too dangerous to have feelings for her. If Galinda knew how Elphaba felt, of the real work she was doing, then she’d become curious—Elphaba knew that. And if Galinda tangled herself in their web, and if Morrible found out—worse, if Morrible found what Elphaba felt for her roommate…

Oz, the web would become so tangled they’d all become hung in it. 

The wind picked up, suddenly, creating ripples in the lake water. Elphaba skirted back from the shore, even though the water wasn’t close to her. 

She wondered. If she walked in, let the water take her, would she drown? 

Or would she burn? 

 

She hid in the library the rest of the day, not even daring to venture towards the ‘Restricted’ section for fear of the awful tiktok mechanism Morrible employed. When the sun finally set, and the trees cast long shadows over the courtyard, the orange glow of the lamp columns casting everything in a dark glow, Elphaba set out. 

She dreaded going back to her room, dreaded seeing Galinda. What would she say to her? What could she say? 

What if she didn’t say anything? What if she just did what she wanted, kissed her again with no thought to the consequences? 

But there were consequences, she knew. Consequences beyond ostracization from Galinda’s friends (something Elphaba knew Galinda cared about deeply.) Morrible knowing was a consequence.

Falling in love was a consequence.

She tightened her shawl around her shoulders, autumn bringing a biting chill to the air. As she crossed the courtyard, she noticed the light still on in Dillamond’s office, his silhouette pacing back and forth.

Oz, she knew it was selfish. Knew she should be heading back to her room, not wasting the doctor’s time. Galinda would be worried, and the thought of the blonde girl worrying about her sent an awful pang through Elphaba’s chest. 

But.

But. The thought of facing her again was too much to bear. If she faced her there would be no avoiding the discussion of their kiss. 

Or worse, she’d have to lie, tell Galinda she wasn’t interested, that she didn’t want to pursue anything further with her. Elphaba was a practiced liar, as much as Morrible was a practiced sorceress, but if there were any lie she dreaded it was one that would hurt Galinda. 

So she strode across the courtyard and entered the old stone building Dillamond’s office was housed in, knocking on the door. 

 

She didn’t know how long she’d stayed, how long she’d been in Doctor Dillamond’s company, researching and reading. A headache was beginning to throb behind her eyes, and she figured it was late enough Galinda would finally be asleep when she headed back to the room. 

She made her way quietly in the dormitory corridor, hoping and praying (subconsciously, she never consciously prayed if she could help it), that Galinda was asleep, that no one was roaming the corridors. 

Elphaba breathed a sigh of relief when she reached her room and quietly unlocked the door. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she noticed the blonde’s sleeping form, her back to Elphaba and her body curled as close to the wall as possible. 

The window was open.

A lump formed in Elphaba’s throat, because she _knew_ that Galinda had done that for her. 

And as she undressed and readied herself for bed, she wished for a spell, wished desperately for her own type of magic, one to stop herself from ever falling for the blonde girl in the first place. 

* * *

 

Elphaba was already gone when Galinda woke the next morning, having pulled one of her disappearing acts again. 

Had she even come home the night before?

But her bedcovers were rumpled, thrown back, and her nightgown was hastily thrown on the foot of the bed, so she must have.

Galinda picked up her pillow and screamed into it in frustration.

It had been two days. Two days since she’d kissed Elphaba and two days since Elphaba had kissed her back. And she _had_ kissed her. Elphaba had kissed her first, Galinda knew, kept replaying the moment in her mind over and over and over. 

And now? Nothing.

She needed a distraction, something to keep her from thinking about the feeling of her roommate’s lips on hers. She needed a day out with Pfannee and Shenshen and Milla, something so far removed from Elphaba that the green girl wouldn’t enter her thoughts no matter how much Galinda wished she would. 

She got dressed in a sunny yellow frock her mother had bought her for her sixteenth birthday, one of the few times she’d been sober for the event. It was a little too light for the season, but when she leaned out the open window there was a hint of summer still in the air, and Galinda wanted one last chance to wear the dress before she had to trade it in for cardigans and tights. 

She knocked on Pfannee’s door, clicked her heels impatiently. A minute later her friend appeared, dressed almost as nicely as Galinda was. 

“Galinda!” she squealed, wrapping the smaller girl in a hug. “Oz we haven’t seen you in forever—we thought your roommate had done something—but you’re here now!” 

Galinda allowed herself a small smile, but all she could think was how little she wanted to talk about Elphaba today. She wanted to gossip about the boys from Crage Hall, find out how her friends were doing in their subjects.

“I’m here,” Galinda said. “Where’s Shenshen? I was thinking we could go into town today, head out to a shop—we haven’t done that in _ages_ ,” she added, voice dripping with enthusiasm.

If Pfannee noticed how much, she didn’t say anything.

Oz, had she always been this vapid? Sounded this self-absorbed?

“She’s putting her makeup on,” Pfannee said. Then she leaned in close to Galinda and whispered conspiratorially, “Trust me, she needs it.” 

Galinda faked a laugh, immediately hating herself for it. 

“But she’ll be ready soon,” Pfannee added. “How _are_ you? We’ve barely seen you since the poetry reading! That awful roommate of yours must be keeping you locked up.”

“She’s not—I’m busy with Morrible’s sorcery lecture,” Galinda said. The words fell out of her mouth lamely. 

“Pity,” Pfannee said, in a tone just sweet enough to make Galinda think she actually thought it _was_ a pity. “Milla’s down the hall, will you go get her? I’ll convince Shenshen to hurry up getting ready.” 

Galinda nodded, and headed down the hall, knocking on Milla’s door. The smaller girl answered, in full makeup, like she’d been expecting Galinda to show up at that very moment.

“Galinda!” she squealed, in much an identical way as Pfannee had done. They hugged and kissed on both cheeks, a custom Galinda still wasn’t used to—it seemed to mainly be an Emerald City one, or one girls picked up when they were trying to act like they were from the city.

“Hi, Milla,” Galinda replied. “How are you?” 

“I’m well,” she said. “Are you joining us today?” 

Something in the way she said it stuck in Galinda’s chest—the emphasis on _today_ , on _us_ , an immediate separation of them and Elphaba. 

“I could use some retail therapy,” Galinda replied. 

“Perfect!” Milla said. 

The two girls stood awkwardly. Galinda had never really known Milla that well, she always seemed to hang on the edge of the group, more Shenshen’s friend than Pfannee or Galinda’s. Milla radiated an air of desperation to belong. 

Yet, not anymore, Galinda realized. Milla had copied Shenshen’s mannerisms down to perfection, and when Shenshen and Pfannee joined the two girls moments later, it was Galinda who felt like the odd one out. 

 

The girls rode a carriage into the city, holding hands and squealing about the opportunity to leave campus. Galinda leaned against the wall of the carriage and gazed out the window at the architecture they passed, wishing she had someone to point out the structures to, the way the lattice-work on a Unionist church was actually inspired by early Lurlineist movements. 

Elphaba would appreciate this, she thought suddenly, fiercely. Elphaba wouldn’t think it was stupid that Galinda wanted to discuss architecture, she wouldn’t give her a blank stare if she brought it up.

But Elphaba was avoiding her, Galinda remembered, with a sudden fire in her chest. Elphaba wanted nothing to do with her, because she had kissed her. 

“Galinda?” 

Shenshen’s nasal voice cut through Galinda’s thoughts, and she turned to her friends. 

“Hm?” 

“We were just discussing that prince that arrived—Fiyero?”

“Have you _seen_ him?” Milla gushed, and the two other girls giggled behind their hands. 

“I have not.” 

“Well his _skin_ …” Milla went on, and her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “It’s so _dark_.”

“So?” Galinda replied. 

Shenshen sniffed. “I forgot, you live with the artichoke. Nothing scandalizes you anymore.” 

Galinda felt her face heating up. “Her name is Elphaba,” she snapped. 

The carriage stayed silent for the rest of the ride into the town. 

 

The mood had lifted considerably by the time the girls reached the shops. They weren’t in the city proper, just outside enough to feel safe, and close enough to feel somewhat metropolitan. 

Galinda couldn’t help but gawk at the buildings, the stone facades, all of it. Her friends bustled ahead of her, arms interlocked, but she lagged behind to stare. 

So busy was she looking at the buildings that she didn’t notice the bundle on the ground until she nearly tripped over it. She caught herself and righted in time, and then looked down to see. 

It was a cat—no, she realized upon closer inspection, a _Cat_. And, goodness… Kittens? Yes, Kittens, peering up at her. The Cat’s back was arched, and it let out a hiss. 

“I’m so sorry,” Galinda said, leaning down. “I didn’t see you.” 

“No one does,” said the Cat. Her voice was low, almost a purr. “Though you're the first to stop and apologize.”

“Really?” Galinda said, though she didn't know why she was shocked. 

One of the Kittens peeked out from behind its mother’s tail. It was strikingly white, with eyes that made Galinda feel like she was under intense scrutiny. 

“Hi,” it said, and the mother Cat curled her tail around it protectively. “I'm Malky.”

“Galinda,” she replied. “Is… do you need anything? Can I do anything?” 

“Unless you can find a way to repeal the Banns, no,” the Cat said.  

“Food?” Galinda asked. 

“No,” the Cat said, and sniffed. “I know girls like you. Society girls who think they can change the world by giving a poor Animal some food. But unless you can change the way things are, nothing is going to help us.” 

“But I…”

“Your friends are waiting,” said the Cat. “I'd run along if you don't want them to leave you.”

Galinda stood reluctantly. 

“Run along,” said the Cat. 

“But I…”

“ _Go_ ,” it hissed, and she did so. When she turned back, the Cat was gone. But the Kitten, Malky, was still watching her, with a flick of a tail that might have been a wave. 

 

Galinda was shaken for the rest of the outing, her thoughts turning what the Cat had said over and over in her mind. 

She had to do something. 

“Galinda?” 

She blinked. She was standing in the middle of The Wand and Willow, watching her friends try on outfit after ridiculous outfit. 

“What?” she said. 

“Where in Oz are you? You've barely spoken since we got here!” 

“I'm not feeling well,” Galinda murmured. Milla and Shenshen made noises of sympathy, but Pfannee narrowed her eyes. 

“Really?”

“Yes,” Galinda said. 

“Because it seems to me like you just don't want to be with us. What, are you too _good_ for us now?” 

“Maybe she's been poisoned by the artichoke,” Milla suggested, and the other girls cackled. 

“ _Stop_ calling her that!”

She hadn't realized the words came out of her mouth until she said them. Her fists were clenched, her breath coming in gasps. 

“Galinda, _what_ has gotten into you?” Shenshen said. 

“Me?! What's gotten into you?” she snapped. “You're just a bunch of vapid, spineless, pathetic girls! You don't care about anything, you didn't even _see_ that Cat today, you're cruel and brainless and—”

But the words had left her. The three girls were staring at her, identical incredulous expressions on their faces. 

And without another word, Galinda turned on her heel and stormed out of the boutique.


	7. Far Safer

Her hands were still shaking when she returned to the dorm, the walk back from the coach having done nothing to clear her head. The wind was crisp and biting, and she shivered in her yellow sundress, her anger doing nothing to warm her bones.

She never would have done this. The old Galinda _never_ would have done this. She was changing, and she knew it. 

The thought made her shiver. She hurried her way into the dormitory, replaying the scenes from the afternoon over and over, the confrontation with the Cat, with her friends. She fumbled with the lock to her dorm room, so caught up in her thoughts she didn’t even notice Elphaba until it was too late.

The sight of Elphaba caused Galinda’s anger to flare again. She’d stood up for Elphaba, she’d sacrificed her own social standing for her, and Elphaba apparently wanted nothing to do with her.

“What?” Galinda snapped as her roommate’s head turned, crossing to her own bed and pulling an old cardigan out from under it. 

“Is everything all right?” Elphaba asked. She was sitting on her own bed, knees drawn up to her chest like they usually were, her dark eyes fixed on Galinda.

“Everything’s fine,” Galinda said. “Why wouldn’t it be fine?” 

“Because,” Elphaba said, remarkably calm, “all of your perfumes are levitating.” 

Galinda turned her head and indeed, they were. She forced herself to breathe, to concentrate on bringing the bottles down gently until they rested safely on her vanity. 

“I’m fine,” Galinda said once she’d let out a breath. “Not like you care, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elphaba asked.

Galinda laughed, and it sounded remarkably like her friends’ derisive, fake laughter from earlier. She hated herself for it a little. “It means that we’re never going to talk about what happened, are we?” 

Elphaba’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb!” Galinda shrieked, and turned to face the green girl head on for the first time since she’d entered the room. “ _You kissed me!_ ” 

She couldn’t believe the words had left her mouth. They hung in the air like the remnants of a spell, a magic not so easily contained. She took a breath and continued, “And ever since then you’ve been cold and distant and secretive—”

“I’m always cold and distant and secretive.”

“Not like this. Not to me,” Galinda said, and the pain in her voice was almost too much for Elphaba to take. “Elphaba, I…”

But she couldn’t find the words, and she was left staring at the taller girl. She wanted to stand, to close the space between them as she had before, wanted to press her lips to Elphaba’s own. But she couldn’t bring herself to if all she was going to face was rejection. 

Galinda wanted a drink. A drink would make her head fuzzy, make this conversation easier, make it easier to forget about what had happened with her friends today. “You don’t care, do you?” she said finally. “You don’t care about my feelings at all. You mustn’t, since you don’t want to acknowledge it.” 

“Galinda…” This time, Elphaba was looking down at the floor.

“I stood up for you!” Galinda said, standing and beginning to pace, if only to give herself something to do. “Today. I went out with my friends and they were being awful and calling you names and I stood up for you when you don’t even deserve it. I’ve lost everything because of you! You know no one will talk to me much now, right? Or they won’t after word gets out that I prefer your company to Pfannee and Shenshen and them.” She wasn’t stopping to think about what she said. She just barreled on. “Because it’s true—I do prefer you. You make me think, as awful as that can be sometimes, you actually make me _care_ about—about Animals, and all these things I didn’t before! But you don’t care about me.” She could barely choke out the last two words. 

This time, Elphaba laughed. “That’s what you think? That I don’t care?”

“No. You don’t,” Galinda said coldly. She sat down on her own bed again, the two girls staring at each other from across the room, the gulf between them widening. “You don’t care about anything.” _About me_ , she thought, but she didn’t add it. 

This time Elphaba looked away from her sharply. “That’s not true.” She stood, wringing her hands. “But it’s… it’s safer this way.” 

“Safer for who?” Galinda asked, and then she was standing, staring at the green girl’s back. She could see the worried movements of her hands 

Elphaba turned. “You. If I… You don’t know what I’m involved with, Galinda. And if… if you did, and they knew—they’d come after you, too. And I can’t…” She sighed.

“The research you’re doing with Doctor Dillamond?” Galinda asked after a moment. Elphaba looked at her. “I’m not dumb, Elphaba. You’ve been disappearing, staying out later and later—even before we…” 

“It’s more than that,” Elphaba said. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Why?” Galinda said. 

“Because  they’d hurt you. And I can’t… I can’t lose you.” 

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Galinda blinked, sure she’d imagined the last two words.

“I can’t lose you,” Elphaba repeated, firmer, and looked into the smaller girl’s eyes. “But I can’t be with you either, Galinda, because if they knew about us, if they found out, it’d be one more thing they could use against us.” 

Galinda’s head swam. The way Elphaba talked, the way she mentioned losing her… She _had_ to have feelings for her. She had to. 

She stood, approaching her. Elphaba flinched, but didn’t move back. So Galinda took another step forward.

And another. 

And another.

She was so close to her now. And she wanted, _oh_ , she wanted to reach out and kiss her, hold her. She knew if she did then the aching feeling in her chest would go away. 

“Don’t you _want_ to be with me?” Galinda said softly, her hands reaching out and taking Elphaba’s.

Elphaba turned her head away. “That’s not a fair question and you know it. Of course I do.”

“Then be with me,” Galinda said. “Please, Elphaba…” 

Elphaba bit her lip. And for a second Galinda thought, _surely, surely now will be the moment she kisses me back._

But she turned her head away.  “I can’t,” she said, and her voice was muffled and choked and her shoulders were shaking in that way they did when Elphaba was desperately trying to steel herself from crying. “I wish I could, but it’s just… it’s just not safe.” 

“Safe for me, or you?” Galinda said, stepping back, hurt like a dull knife in her chest. 

“For both of us, Galinda, please—can’t you see—you have to understand what they’d do—”

“No, I don’t, because you won’t tell me,” Galinda said. 

But something flickered in her mind. A memory, an early one, from when she’d first arrived at Shiz, when she’d first been assigned Elphaba as her roommate. A conversation she’d had with Morrible when she’d tried desperately to change her room assignment.

 _“I suppose if Miss Elphaba cannot live with what_ we _give her…”_

“It’s Morrible, isn’t it?” Galinda said, and Elphaba looked at her sharply. “She… she’s got it out for you, or something.” 

Elphaba’s face was blank, a carefully controlled mask. “No.”

“You’re lying to me.” 

“Because you’re _right_ ,” Elphaba said through clenched teeth, and she looked around, almost as if she were afraid someone would hear them. “I can’t talk about it.” 

“Why not?” Galinda challenged, stepping up to the taller girl, her hands on her hips. “You say it’s safer for me not to know, but if I’ve guessed already…” 

“Forget it,” Elphaba said, trying to push past Galinda. “Just forget it, all right?” 

“Where are you going?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Elphaba said. “I just… I can’t be with you right now.” 

Galinda stepped back, stunned. 

“Elphaba…” 

Her hand hovered above the green girl’s arm, but Elphaba shook her head. “Please, don’t,” she said, her voice thick, and she left the room before Galinda had time to react. 


	8. A Sense of Dread

Her heart was racing, the tears on her cheeks burning hot. 

She had to talk to someone, had to go see Dillamond. He’d know what to do, he’d tell her if it was safe or not for her to be with Galinda. Because she desperately, desperately wanted to be with her. She wanted nothing more than to hold her, to kiss her again. 

But it wouldn’t be fair to Galinda if they had to keep it secret. And Elphaba suspected Morrible knew more than she let on, suspected she had spells and eyes and ears all over campus. It wouldn’t take her long to discover the blonde and Elphaba’s relationship, and when she did… 

Though perhaps she already had some idea.

What Morrible had said to Galinda ran over and over in Elphaba’s mind. How even from the start she’d had it out for her. How she tried to recruit Galinda into that, back when Galinda and Elphaba disliked (probably hated) each other. And Elphaba knew with a shivering certainty that if Morrible ever found out about their feelings for each other, that would be the end of it. She’d find a way to twist and turn them against each other, using them for… 

For what? Elphaba still didn’t understand her motives. She knew she was dangerous. She knew she didn’t like her. Knew that Morrible had an awful bias towards her, knew she was working with the Wizard.

But to what end? And how, _why_ , was a powerful Headmistress threatened by two teenage girls? 

This was too much. She needed to talk, needed to sort and process her thoughts, because right now they were threatening to overwhelm her. 

She crossed the lawn to Doctor Dillamond’s office, cloak pulled tight across her shoulders so she blended in with the night. He would know what to do, what to say. He would tell her how to feel and maybe all of this would start to make sense.

There was a light still on in his office, thank Lurline. Elphaba shivered as she touched the cold knob of the door. 

Something felt off. The air felt charged, tense— _magic._

A sense of dread grew in her stomach. 

_No. No no no no no no—_

She pushed open the door. 

Nothing was amiss. The Goat was sitting at his desk, glasses falling down his snout, squinting down at some papers. He looked up at Elphaba’s entrance.

“Elphaba? What are you doing here?” 

She put a hand to her racing heart, tried to calm herself down.

“I… I got this feeling, I thought something—I need to talk to you,” she said, stepping into the classroom fully and shutting the door behind her.

She was being paranoid. Galinda’s words had her thinking Morrible was around every corner, that there was something lurking for her behind every shadow. Doctor Dillamond was fine. He was alive, and he was in front of her, and he was fine. 

The Goat stood, polished his glasses on his jacket. He didn’t lecture her about the hour, or how he’d just seen her moments before. Instead, he put the kettle on, one lit by an anbaric contraption she’d never seen before coming to Shiz, heating water without the use of a stove. 

“I know you can’t, so forgive me. Late-night conversations like these always involve tea for me,” he said, throwing her an apologetic glance. She shrugged and settled herself on a chair, pulling her cloak tighter around herself for some sense of stability. Elphaba watched as he went through the ritual of putting the kettle on, of placing two lumps of sugar in the bottom of a mug, filling it with loose tea leaves— “From Quadling Country, did you know, they have great knowledge of herbal remedies,” he said to her—and pouring the boiling water in, stirring it with a small bent spoon. She felt the same sense of calm she did when she put her oils on, the precision and care with which he made his tea was much the same. Soothing. 

When he finally sat down and faced her again, Elphaba felt remarkably calmer, no sense of urgency thrumming through her like before. 

“What did you want to discuss, my dear?” he said, looking down at her. 

She shifted. “It’s… Galinda,” she said finally, daring to use the girl’s name. “I… She told me something this evening and it’s been troubling me, so I thought I’d come to you. Something about Morrible.” 

And she told him of what Galinda had said, of Morrible’s _if Elphaba cannot live with what_ we _give her._ Doctor Dillamond frowned at this and set his mug down, regarding her with a woeful stare. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Elphaba finished. She clenched her fists in her lap. “I… Oz, I might love her. And if Morrible ever found that out, she’d…” She let her voice trail off, not daring to finish that sentence.  “It’s not _safe_ ,” she finally said after a minute, and looked him in the eyes. “I know it’s not safe, but I want it.” She sounded like a pleading child, something she’d never sounded like in her seventeen years. Yet here she was, Elphaba Thropp, pleading. _Wanting_. 

The Goat looked at her. “I am not well-versed on the matters of love, Elphaba,” he said finally. “But I do know danger. And I know Morrible. And she will stop at nothing to dismantle you, including using Miss Galinda. And make no mistake, she will use her regardless of her feelings for you, as it seems she is already trying to.” 

“But if I—if I love her, won’t that make it worse?” Elphaba asked. “For her. For us. If Morrible found out…” 

Doctor Dillamond sighed, stood, and began to straighten his desk. 

“Miss Thropp,” he said, and the sense of formality made her shiver. “You are bright, and young, and capable. She will use anything she has against you. But as I told you this morning, I truly do not think you can do this alone.” 

“I’m not alone, I have you,” she said. “I’m helping you with your research.” 

Something painful crossed along the Goat’s face, an emotion Elphaba could not decipher. 

“This will be bigger than the two of us,” he said, so softly she almost didn’t hear him. He opened his mouth to say more, but a sharp _crack!_ cut through the air, and Elphaba startled. 

Doctor Dillamond dropped his mug, and the shattering of ceramic seemed to spur him into action.

“You cannot be here,” he said, and she stood. He pressed his hooves into her back, ushering her towards the door. 

“Sir, I—”

“ _Go_ ,” he bleated. “She cannot find you here, not with me. Not now. Elphaba, remember what I said.” 

“Doctor Dillamond—”

He wasted no more words on her, and she soon found herself standing outside his office, stunned. 

_She cannot find you here._

The words resounded in her head and she pushed open the door to the outside, immediately flattening herself against the wall. 

Something was wrong. Someone was moving across the lawn as if they didn’t want to be seen, silent and creeping. Elphaba felt her senses betraying her, clouding her, and she hurried on through the stone archway, taking care to step lightly so no one would hear her. 

Her pulse was racing. She thought she heard something whirring behind her so she pressed on, further, towards the garden she knew would lead her to the kitchen and then back safely to her dorm. 

If she could just make it, if she could just reach Galinda without being caught, then she would apologize for every stupid thing she’d ever said, every cruel comment and gesture and rejection, and she would simply kiss her, press her lips against hers and forget the world if only for a split second. In the distance, she thought she heard a cry, a noise, and she pressed forward to her dorm room. She made sure to make no noise when she opened the door. 

The lights were off. Galinda’s form was curled up with her back to her, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath. 

And Elphaba looked at her, thinking of all the things she’d said, the memory of Galinda kissing her and Dillamond’s words echoing in her head, and she felt more alone than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read or subscribed so far! Your comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


	9. Prayer for the Dying

**A/N: Made a moodboard for this series, which you can find on my[tumblr](need-not.tumblr.com). And now, onto the next chapter!**

* * *

 

Doctor Dillamond was dead. 

The whole campus was buzzing with the news the next morning. Elphaba found it difficult to concentrate on anything else, and in a rare moment of desperation, skipped her classes and curled up in the back of the library.

She didn’t cry. She felt numb. Disoriented. She’d just been talking with him last night, and now… 

Whispers abounded that he’d been murdered. Killed. Slain, whatever they wanted to call it. Had he been killed because of her? The thought ran through her head unbidden, yet the rational part of her knew she wasn’t that important. He had been killed because of his work, because of his research…

What was being done with his research?

She had to know. Had to make sure it was safe, it was being protected, because otherwise she knew Morrible would destroy it the second she could, if she hadn’t already. She pushed back from the table she’d set herself up at, collected the books she'd barely glanced at all morning. Made her way quietly out of the library, not even bothering to glance back. Elphaba clutched her books to her chest, kept her head down as she walked, nearly colliding with another student. 

“Must you make it a habit to knock me off my feet?” a sharp voice said. 

Elphaba looked up—well, down—at the figure sprawled before her. “I'm sorry, Boq,” she said. “I'm… I don't know.” 

“It's dreadful about Dillamond,” Boq said, not acknowledging her apology. She bent down to help him with his books, setting her own on the stone walkway, noticing how he wouldn’t let his hand touch hers. 

“I’m not made of poison, Master Boq,” she said coldly. “I won’t harm you through skin contact.” 

Boq looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I got the distinct impression you didn’t like to be touched.” 

Elphaba softened. “I… thank you. For respecting that.” She handed him a book and his finger brushed hers as they stood, and she gathered her own, tucking them under one arm, and she even offered him a small smile. 

“Are you… all right?” he finally ventured after what felt like ages. “You were close with Dillamond. And I know this won’t alleviate it, but you know, my offer to get you into Briscoe still stands.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” she said, not answering his question. “His death. Everyone is grieving and mourning like they knew him, but no one cares to find out how he died. Not really.” 

“You think he was killed, don’t you?” Boq asked.

She wouldn't meet his gaze. “I need something from you,” she said abruptly, lifting her head, and Boq saw in her eyes the same fire that had been burning previously. Her voice was tight, her refusal to give him a direct answer on anything a telltale sign, at least to Boq, if how upset she really was. “Please, Boq. Dillamond’s research. I don't… I'm worried Morrible may destroy it, if she hasn't already.”

“And you want me to get it,” he said sourly. “Your debt to me keeps growing, Elphaba.”

“Come now Boq, I'm asking as a friend,” she said, not unkindly. “Hell and Oz, I'll arrange a private date between you and Miss Galinda if you wish. But I…” she swallowed. “I need your help. You wanted to be involved with his research? Now’s your chance,” she said. 

She stepped back from him, allowed him his space. Boq watched her, the way her hand fidgeted at her side, how she wouldn’t stand still. 

“What makes you think you can fix it?” he asked her.

“Fix what?” 

“What Dillamond was trying to fix. The Banns. The…” he swallowed, “the Wizard. All of it.”

“I don't,” she said simply. “But I owe it to Dillamond to try, don't I? We all do.” 

Boq nodded thoughtfully. For a second Elphaba was afraid he'd say no, leave her in the dust. But there was a gleam in his eye she'd seen the last time she mentioned Dillamond to him. 

“I have some friends,” Boq said slowly. “Crope and Tibbett. And that new prince, Fiyero? They'd be willing to help. Crops and Tibbett are exceptionally good at that sort of trickery, and Fiyero… well. If we need someone to handle to social graces side of things—something you aren't particularly well-versed in,” he said, eyeing her. 

“Do watch your tongue, Master Boq. I may not be a sorceress but I've been known to curse men who wrong me,” she said, in a tone that made him unsure of whether or not she was joking. 

He shifted nervously from foot to foot, unconsciously mirroring her movements. “After I gather the information… then what?” 

“I need you to get me into Briscoe Hall. Or get the information in there for me, once we figure out what we need.” 

Boq nodded solemnly. “We’re really doing this, then?” 

“I suppose we must.”

“And what of Miss Galinda?”

“What of her?” Elphaba snapped, perhaps too harshly. She felt heat crawling into her face and desperately wished Boq didn’t see it.

“Won't she notice if you're disappearing all the time?” 

Elphaba sighed and took her glasses off, polishing them as she stalled for time. “I don’t think Miss Galinda really wants me around her at the moment,” she said softly.

“You’re not fighting again, are you? I thought the two of you were beyond that.” 

“I don’t know what we are, Boq,” she said. 

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and touched her on the arm, almost affectionately. He recognized something of himself in Elphaba then, though he knew she’d deny it, a mirror of his own feelings. 

“You don’t have to introduce me to her if you don’t want to, Elphaba,” Boq said. 

She looked at him, offering him a small smile. “No, I will. Even if as friends, since that’s all she seems interested in at the moment.” 

Boq’s hand left her arm, but she surprised herself then by reaching down and squeezing his hand. 

“Meet tomorrow?” she asked. “Not at the student union; that’ll be too crowded. I know a place. Bring Crope and Tibbett and Fiyero, if you wish. I’ll talk to Galinda, I suppose, though I’d wish to keep her away from all of this.” 

“It may be a bit too late for that,” Boq said. 

Elphaba sucked in air through her teeth, but she didn’t disagree. Didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Boq asked. “At… wherever?” 

“We’ll meet here,” Elphaba said. She hoisted her satchel higher up on her shoulder. “You can follow me. See you then, Boq,” she said, and before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and was gone.

 

Galinda was sitting at Elphaba’s desk when Elphaba finally entered the room, sketchpad open, hands blackened with charcoal. She glanced up when Elphaba came through the door. 

“Are you all right?” Galinda asked, pushing back from the desk and heading towards Elphaba, reaching out to her. Her hand brushed Elphaba’s and Elphaba’s instinct was to flinch at the contact, but she kept her ground, not wishing to hurt Galinda any further. “I heard about Doctor Dillamond.” 

“I’m fine,” Elphaba said. Galinda frowned and bit her lip. 

“Don’t do that,” she said softly. “Elphaba, please. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” 

Elphaba nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said, surprising herself. “For everything.”

“For kissing me?” Galinda asked. 

Elphaba took her hands. Glinda’s hands were softer and fuller than hers, though still slender. Her nails were a pale pink, contrasting with the moss of Elphaba’s own skin. Without a word, Glinda took her hands, brushed her lips across Elphaba’s bony knuckles. The feeling sent warmth flooding through Elphaba, and she was surprised to find her eyes filling with tears. 

“Not that,” Elphaba said. “Never for that. I’m sorry… I’m sorry it can’t work out, Galinda. Not now.” 

“Glinda,” she said. “Just Glinda. For… for Doctor Dillamond. When he mispronounced my name at the Quells.” 

Elphaba smiled. “Glinda, then. I… Oz. I want you,” she said fiercely. “I want to be with you, I—”

“But it’s not safe,” Glinda finished. “I know. Then… then let me help. With the cause. I know you can’t do it alone.” 

“I’m not. Boq’s offered to help.” 

“You trust him over me?” 

“He’s expendable,” Elphaba said. “If… if something happened to you I couldn’t live with myself.” 

Glinda breathed in, gripped Elphaba’s hands. 

“You can’t stop me, Elphaba Thropp,” she said, and when her eyes met Elphaba’s they were a stormy blue, almost gray. “I’m not fragile, I’m not a little airheaded girl in need of protection. I’m as bothered by what’s happening as you are, and I’m going to help you.” 

Elphaba sighed. She wanted to wrap the smaller girl in her arms, kiss her, shield her from every bad thing in Oz. But Glinda was right. She had changed. She was no longer the airheaded girl she had been when Elphaba first knew her. She was capable, and when it came to it, she was as stubborn as Elphaba herself. 

“We’re meeting Boq tomorrow, with some of his friends and formulating a plan.” 

Glinda nodded, pulling back from Elphaba and rewarding her with one of those rare, sincere smiles. “Then I guess I’d better plan my outfit now, yes?” 

Elphaba found herself laughing, and Glinda joined in. Elphaba walked over to her bed, watched as Glinda made her way back to the desk. 

“What’re you drawing, Glinda?” Elphaba asked. “I didn’t peg you for the art type.” 

“Didn’t you? My makeup is its own form of art—colors and the like,” Glinda said, turning back to her. “And I’ve been in the library, researching the architecture of the Emerald City. It’s quite fascinating, the various pagan and Unionist influences. Look,” she said, and held her sketchbook out to Elphaba. 

Glinda’s sketches were beautiful, smudged lines and a clear eye for detail Elphaba hadn’t noticed before. She took the sketchbook from her roommate gingerly, careful not to disturb any of the drawing, staring at the rounded dome of the city’s main library, the way Glinda had captured the motion of everyone outside. 

“Do you like it?” Glinda asked, nervousness in her voice, like she was almost asking for Elphaba’s approval. 

“It’s beautiful. I didn’t know,” Elphaba said. 

“Yes, well, I suppose there’s a lot we still don’t know about each other,” Glinda said. 

And this time, the smile she fixed her roommate with was tinged with sadness, and Elphaba found herself wishing, again, that things could be different, that she could be with this smart, fierce, talented girl whom she loved. 

But it was not meant to be.


	10. The Charmed Circle

They met the following morning on a rainy afternoon, figures running and ducking under the archway, a haphazardly formed group staring and blinking at each other. Elphaba, with her thick cloaks, hood pulled high to shield from the rain; Glinda, in deep midnight blues and purples that made her eyes all the more striking; Boq, looking like some Emerald City detective, complete with a bowler hat that one of the other boys immediately took off his head. The boy with the hat, they would learn, was Crope, with ruddy skin and fair blond curls. The smaller boy next to him, tawny skin and large, owlish eyes, was Tibbett, a mischievous air surrounding him much like his counterpart. 

The last to arrive to their group was Fiyero. Elphaba had only ever seen him in passing, as he hurried to class much in the same way she did, head down. He possessed a regal air, or he would if his self-consciousness didn’t get in the way. His skin was a dark ochre, beautiful and rich, studded with blue diamonds. Elphaba found herself staring, then chided herself; she knew all too well the feeling of being gawked at like some spectacle. 

“So,” Boq said, once they had all been introduced. “Miss Elphaba, I believe you were the one who had a plan?” 

Elphaba nodded tightly. “Follow me. Keep up.” 

She pulled her cloak over her head and disappeared down an alley. The others scurried behind her, Crope and Tibbett keeping up easily, Boq trailing along on their coattails. Glinda found herself growing quickly frustrated with Elphaba, who weaved and ducked through back alleys as if she’d spent her entire childhood navigating them. 

For someone who stood out so much, Glinda remarked at how well Elphaba seemed to blend in with shadows, her cloaks making her look part of the exterior of the buildings. Crope and Tibbett were agile enough to keep up with her, Boq followed clumsily behind. 

“Why aren’t you hurrying?” Glinda found herself whispering to the Arjiki prince beside her. Fiyero. 

“I know where she’s going.” 

“Do you now?” 

“Well, no,” he confessed, but then shot a grin her way. “But I’m an excellent tracker. I can find her again if need be.” 

“That’s… unnerving,” Glinda said, and quickened her pace. Elphaba lead them down so many twists and turns and back alleys Glinda was sure she’d walked miles, never able to find her way back to Shiz. But when they emerged, she was surprised to find herself on a street she knew semi-well, if only for its proximity to the boutiques she used to frequent with Shenshen and Milla. Granted, it _was_ a side street, and one she had never dared set foot down, but at least now she was comforted with the thought she could find her way home if needed. If Elphaba left her. 

The thought of Elphaba leaving her was a cold shard in her chest, but she sniffed, pressing on. No matter her feelings, and no matter Elphaba’s feelings, Glinda knew she wouldn’t just _leave_. 

And if they couldn’t be together, then at least she could be near her. At least she could make her presence known, help out with the cause, be part of something bigger than herself. 

They ducked into a small tavern, nondescript from the outside, possibly even magicked so no one would notice it there. From the outside it looked quite dingy, the kind of place Glinda wouldn’t have glanced at twice. She supposed that was why Elphaba had picked it. 

The tavern wasn’t much more remarkable on the inside. Dark wood paneled almost every surface, making it feel more claustrophobic than it was. Vaguely anti-Wizard sentiments were plastered on the walls, sentiments that could be waved away if scrutinized. There was one with a man who looked vaguely Wizard-ish, shoving Animals into a cage—though of course no one had _seen_ the Wizard, so for all anyone knew it could be the bar owner.

A Badger stood behind the bar, wiping out a stack of pint mugs. The six of them crowded around a small table in the back, jostling with each other for space. Glinda found herself stuck between Fiyero and Boq, wishing herself closer to Elphaba. But the girl was hardly paying her any attention. 

“What’s everyone having?” Crope said, standing up. “My treat.” 

“Crope, you don’t have to…” Glinda started. 

“My treat,” he said more insistently. 

The table shifted uncomfortably. Wealth was not something Glinda was accustomed to talking about or noticing, but now she saw too clearly the threadbare patches on Boq’s sweater. She knew Elphaba came from _some_ money, though she dressed like she didn't, and Fiyero was a prince, so he must. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment as she realized she’d never considered those without, how someone constantly offering to pay for someone else could create an imbalance. 

“I’ll have a mead,” Fiyero said finally, breaking the silence. “ _And_ I’ll pay next time. We’ll go in a round.” 

Glinda liked him more for this—not only diffusing the situation but also assuming there would be a next time. She could tell he set the rest of them at ease, too, because they went around the table and ordered. All except Elphaba, who waved Crope off.

“Next time,” she said. “I want my head clear for this.” 

“Didn’t know you were such a lightweight, _Miss_ Elphaba,” he said, and she scowled at him as he made his way to the counter. 

Glinda shifted in her seat, wishing she was closer to Elphaba. Boq noticed, shooting her a sympathetic smile, and she started. She knew he probably still had a crush on her, but if he knew how she felt about Elphaba, he didn’t say. 

Elphaba herself was fidgeting in that way she did when she was uncomfortable, winding her black hair around her fingers. The hood of her cloak was thrown back, but in the low light of the tavern no one gave her a second glance. 

Boq cleared his throat, coughed. Elphaba gave him a sharp glance. 

“Did you get the research?” She asked just as Crope returned.

“What research?” Crope asked, and Glinda was pleased to find she already knew the answer.

“You mean Dillamond’s research, don’t you?” Glinda said. 

Elphaba nodded. “I asked Boq to get it—in case Morrible wanted to destroy it, like she…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Did you get it?” 

The entire table looked at Boq. 

“Some of it. It looks like—like he may have hidden some, I don't know.” 

“How do you not know?” Elphaba asked. Then, realizing how loud she had become, she lowered her voice. 

“Like… I found two pages that _maybe_ mentioned Animals. That’s it. And the place looked messy but it didn’t look ransacked, didn’t look like—” 

“Like someone had broken in,” Glinda finished, and Boq nodded. 

Elphaba frowned. “So you think it’s hidden, then.” 

“I don’t know. But that’s what makes the most sense, doesn’t it? Didn’t you say he knew something was off?” 

The table now shifted their focus to Elphaba. While used to stares, she wasn’t used to the intense scrutiny she suddenly found herself under—worse, scrutiny by people with whom she actually felt some sort of kinship.

“I visited him a few times,” she started, and then Elphaba found herself explaining the nature of her relationship with Doctor Dillamond, what his research had entailed, the details of their friendship. She left out how she’d asked his advice about her relationship with Glinda, not even daring herself to look at the girl. It was a good thing Boq was sitting between them; although Elphaba was too aware of how the tavern light cast Glinda in a soft glow. 

 _Stop it,_ she admonished herself when she found her voice trailing off. She spun the rest of them a tale, with Glinda telling of how Morrible had tried to draw her in her first day at Shiz into some workings against Elphaba. 

The table was silent as Elphaba finished, each person looking down into their own drinks as if they might somehow hold the answers. They were all aware there was no going back from this if they decided to become involved.

“You can walk away now,” Elphaba said, and they all looked at her. “If you think this is too big for you—too much. I don’t even understand the implications of it all, yet. But something is… I don’t know. I’m just telling you can walk away from this now.” 

She held her breath. No one moved. Elphaba found herself wishing desperately that Glinda would get up, walk away, save herself from the rest of this. But as if she knew what the other was thinking, Glinda fixed Elphaba with a steely glare that said _I’m not going anywhere._

 

They agreed to meet the following week on the walk back to Shiz, at a different location so no one could follow them. Boq would bring what pages of Dillamond’s research he’d salvaged and they’d begin the long, arduous process of trying to figure out where the rest of it could possibly be hidden. 

The group dispersed when they hit the grounds, Glinda following closely behind Elphaba. Elphaba didn’t say a word until they’d reached the dorm room, where she immediately took off her cloak and shook out the last few scattered raindrops from it.

“Where do you think he hid it?” Glinda asked, but at one glance from Elphaba she closed her mouth. Elphaba grabbed a piece of parchment and scribbled hastily, holding it up for Glinda to see.

_Not here. Morrible probably listening._

Glinda nodded. Elphaba tore up the paper, but before she could do anything, Glinda had magicked it so it burst into flames, not even leaving a char mark on Elphaba’s desk.

“You’re getting good at that,” Elphaba observed. 

“Am I?” 

“Yes. And Glinda… thank you. For coming today. I know I worry but it’s—”

“Because you don’t want to lose me,” Glinda finished. She sat down on her bed and looked at her roommate. “I know.” 

“I hate it too,” Elphaba said softly, and she glanced over at Glinda. “But it’s for the best.” 

The girls quietly undressed, curling up on their respective beds. Elphaba shoved her glasses further up her nose and held a book up to her face, though Glinda noticed she barely flipped any pages. Glinda practiced small spells under her breath, trying desperately to change the color of Elphaba’s bedsheets without her noticing, to no avail. But she thought she did see a small spot of pink on the corner, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

She reached over and turned off her lamp, whispered a “Good night,” to Elphaba, who didn’t respond. And as she drifted off to sleep, cold and empty, Glinda wondered if it was for the best after all.


	11. Spells and Wanting

Weeks went by before they were able to meet again. Exams were drawing near; Elphaba and Glinda spent afternoons fiercely studying in the library or their dorm, quizzing each other on various concepts. The time was drawing nearer for them to have to declare their studies. Glinda found herself wavering between architecture and sorcery; the former because she loved it, the latter because Morrible gave her a look every time she was in class. 

One cold weekday two days before exams were scheduled to start, Morrible stopped her after class, a hand on her arm. Glinda gazed down at the brightly painted talons clutching her forearm, repressing the urge to shudder. Morrible’s nails were blood red, and Glinda found herself wondering if they’d been magicked to look that way. 

“Miss Galinda,” Morrible said. “Might I talk to you?” 

Glinda didn’t correct her on the pronunciation. If she did she knew she’d have to explain _why_ she’d done it, and bringing up Doctor Dillamond in front of Morrible wasn’t something she was keen on. 

“Of course, Madame,” Glinda said. She fidgeted with the collar of her dress. Madame Morrible waited until the other students had left the classroom to fully turn her attention to Glinda, who felt scrutinized under her intense gaze. 

“Now, my dear,” she said. “Have you given any thought to what subject you plan on declaring next semester?” 

“Not much, Madame,” Glinda lied. Madame Morrible _hmph_ ed. 

“I find that hard to believe from one as bright as yourself,” she said. “Though I suspect in someone so driven you may find yourself torn between two subjects, if that’s right?” 

Glinda kept her face carefully controlled. “I just want to weigh my options, Madame.” 

“You seemed incredibly keen on sorcery when you entered my seminar, I can hardly believe that’s changed. And of course, there’s the matter of your roommate…” 

“What of her?” Glinda said, praying the fear wouldn’t make her voice tremble. 

“If you choose sorcery, there is a chance I can assign you a new roommate, one whose interests line up with yours more,” she said. 

Glinda swallowed. The last thing she wanted was to be separated from Elphaba, even now—especially now, with all they had yet to uncover. She knew if they were separated that would only be the beginning of it, that Morrible would find a way to further keep them from each other. 

“Of course, I don’t expect you to decide right now,” Morrible added, and Glinda blinked. Wasn’t that exactly what she had been insinuating? “You don’t officially declare until after exams, anyway. But I do expect an answer by then, Miss Glinda,” she said, and before Glinda had time to process, Morrible had let go of her arm and swept out of the room like she couldn’t be bothered.

It took Glinda a minute to register that Madame Morrible had addressed her by her new name, and she hurried off to her dorm as quickly as she could, not wanting to spend another second in that classroom any longer. 

 

Elphaba was in the dorm when Glinda returned, head bent low over a book. She barely looked up when Glinda came through the room, scribbling madly on a sheet of parchment. 

“Elphie?” Glinda asked. “Elphie, can I talk to you?” 

Elphaba looked up from her notes, frowning. “Can it wait?” 

But then she took in the distressed look on Glinda’s face, the way she was breathing heavily, and Elphaba motioned for her to sit. 

“It’s Morrible,” Glinda said, the words coming out in a rush. She told Elphaba of what Morrible had said about her studying sorcery, about separating them, even about her using Glinda’s new name. Elphaba’s frown deepened. 

“She didn’t try anything, did she?” 

“No, she didn’t,” Glinda said. “But I… I don’t know what to do. I mean there’s no guarantee she’ll separate us if I study sorcery, but… I don’t know what she’ll do if I say I’m studying architecture. I don’t know if she’ll let me, and I know, I _know_ how ridiculous that sounds—”

“No, it doesn’t,” Elphaba cut her off. Glinda twisted her hands together. How she wished, she _wished_ that Elphaba would gather her in her arms, tell her it was all going to be okay. 

But she didn’t. And it wasn’t. 

“Glinda…” Elphaba said after a minute, “I hate to say it, but it might be for the best—if you take sorcery. Hear me out,” she added at the look on Glinda’s face. “If you want to be involved—truly involved—then we’ll need sorcery. We’ll need that skill, since none of us have it.” 

“But you can do magic,” Glinda cut in. “I’ve seen you.” 

Elphaba shook her head. “Not like you. Not like someone with proper training. And that way… that way you could keep an eye on Morrible, be in her good graces.” 

Glinda chewed on her lower lip. Much as she hated to admit it, Elphaba was right. She knew that, deep down. Sorcery was the best option.

It just wasn’t what she wanted. 

But then again, neither was being apart from Elphaba, and that was “for the best,” too. 

“I know it’s not fair,” Elphaba said after a minute, and Glinda didn't know whether she was talking about their situation or sorcery or the whole thing. 

 She didn’t ask. She just pulled out her sorcery books and read through spells, filling her head with magic and spells and wanting. 

 

The six of them managed to find a quiet moment during exams, choosing to meet on campus down by the Suicide Canal. Elphaba figured it was cold enough they wouldn’t be bothered, though she secretly still worried someone would be listening in. 

They settled on blankets the boys had brought, ate cheese and bread and a Vinkan wine Crope and Tibbett had nicked from the kitchens. The wine was rich and heady, and Fiyero spent a good ten minutes extolling its virtues. 

Glinda was laughing and hanging on his every word, and Elphaba found her cheeks heating up, though she didn’t know if it was from jealousy or the wine. 

 _She’s not yours_ , she chided herself. Glinda didn’t belong to her, what did it matter if she flirted slightly with Fiyero? Elphaba was the one who had set those boundaries in the first place. 

“So,” Boq said, startling her out of her reverie. “How are everyone’s exams coming?” 

“Oh please, can we not?” Crope asked, lolling in the grass. “I came here because Fiyero promised there would be no exam talk, and I won’t stand for it.” 

“Fine,” Boq said, scowling good-naturedly. “Elphaba? Any news?” 

“You’re the one who was supposed to be looking, Boq,” she said. 

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who said we should all be looking—”

“Oh, stop bickering you two, you’re like an old married couple,” Tibbett said pleasantly. Boq’s cheeks flushed pink, and Elphaba cackled. 

“I did bring the research,” Boq said, once the group had regained their composure. He pulled two pages out of his bag, pages that had clearly been folded and re folded, so thin Elphaba could see the ink through the back of the parchment. “As for the rest of it… has anyone had time to look?” 

“No,” Elphaba said. “Exams. Morrible’s been watching the library closely, too, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get in.” She took the pages from Boq’s hands and turned them over, frowning. Dillamond’s scrawl was difficult to make out, but she could catch a few words here and there. “This can’t be it,” she said. “We need to find the rest of it. Who’s staying over break?” she asked, looking at each of them. 

“Elphaba, no one’s thinking about break right now, we’re all too tied up with exams,” Crope whined. She fixed him with a glare. 

“I don’t know about you but that’s all I’m thinking about,” Fiyero said. “And I’ll be here over break.” 

“Not going home to see Sarima?” Boq asked. Fiyero blushed. 

“Who’s Sarima?” Glinda asked, and Elphaba pretended not to hear the slight note of jealousy in her voice. 

“My wife,” Fiyero muttered, and the group fell over themselves in exclamation. “We’ve been betrothed since we were children. It’s all political, arranged.” 

“Why aren’t you going home to see her?” Glinda asked. Fiyero shrugged, wouldn’t meet her gaze. 

“Politically, the Vinkus is… not doing well. They don’t want me to return at the moment, think it isn’t safe,” he said. 

“Mm,” Elphaba grunted in agreement, and the entire group shifted their focus to her. 

“What about you, Elphaba?” Fiyero asked. “You’re the Thropp Third Descending, right?” 

Elphaba fixed him with a steely glare. “Not by choice. And I’m rescinding my title; it’s going to my brother, Shell. Oz knows what he’ll do with it, but better him than me. And with Nessa’s condition…” 

“Wait, you have siblings?” Crope cut in. 

“Shell and Nessa, yes. Nessa may come here, Father hasn’t decided yet. Shell is my younger brother.” 

“And are they…?” Boq’s voice trailed off. 

“They’re both perfectly normal colors, yes, though Nessa…” Elphaba blew out through her teeth. “Nessa was born without arms. She’s not weak,” she added, before the group could express pity. “On the contrary, her faith is stronger than anyone, except perhaps father’s. She’s devout.” 

“And you aren’t?” Fiyero asked. She looked at him, the seriousness in his eyes. 

“Why should I be? I have no soul.” 

“Oh Elphie, you know that’s not true,” Glinda said, and Crope let out a laugh. 

“Elphie?” 

Elphaba scowled. “Can we get back to the matter at hand?” she said sourly, and the rest of them knew they weren’t getting any more information out of her, at least not then. “Where should we start looking for Dillamond’s research? And which of you are staying over break?” 

Glinda, Fiyero, and Crope raised their hands. Elphaba felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach at the sight of Glinda’s raised hand, but she swallowed it down. 

“You aren’t staying, Boq?” she asked. 

He frowned. “I can’t, I need to go home. The harvest wasn’t so… it wasn’t good, this year, and they need all the help they can get.” 

Elphaba nodded. “Tibbett?” 

“Alas, I cannot stay. But I can get information at home—my father is a palace security adviser. I’ll have my ears out for everything.” At that, he wiggled his ears, and Crope fell over laughing. Elphaba found a  small smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. 

“So it’s settled, then,” she said. “Once exams are finished, we begin.” 


	12. Sleepless

Their first exams came to an end, both girls tired, exhausted even when they were over. Glinda knew Elphaba had passed with flying colors, of course she had, but the exhaustion on her roommate’s face made her question if it was worth it.

She knew Elphaba wasn’t sleeping. Knew she spent her nights laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts churning through her brain. Knew that when she thought Glinda was sleeping, Elphaba would slip out for hours, not returning until dawn barely peeked through the window of their dorm room. On those nights, Glinda lay awake on her side, mumbling what few incantations she knew, hoping to protect her, save her from whatever threats she was facing. 

She had fallen into a dreamy sort of half-sleep when the door to their room creaked open and Elphaba came in, smelling of winter and smoke, twigs tangled in that long black hair. In the light coming in from the hallway she looked like some sort of nymph, some sort of rumored forest creature, half-human, half-spirit. 

She looked beautiful, wild, and Glinda wished she were still asleep, because at least then it wouldn’t hurt so much. 

“Elphaba?” she said, sitting up as Elphaba closed the door. If Elphaba was surprised Glinda wasn’t asleep she made no note of it, just sighed and turned her attention to her roommate. 

“Go to sleep, love,” she said. 

The sentiment was like a barb in Glinda’s heart. “Where were you?” she asked. “You look—”

“I was out,” Elphaba said dismissively. “The less you know, the better.” 

“That’s not fair,” Glinda said, the old fight settling in her bones, the weight of it almost a comfort. “I told you I want to be involved. You can’t shut me out like this.” 

“Oh? Watch me,” Elphaba said, her voice almost cruel. She turned her back to Glinda and began removing her cloak, the heavy fabric dark enough she blended in with the shadows in their room. Glinda reached and turned on the bedside lamp, but Elphaba hissed, “ _No._ I don’t want her to know we’re awake.” 

“Elphie…” Glinda said, but her voice was full of doubt. She knew Elphaba was right, knew Morrible could be watching them at any time. 

Glinda pushed her covers back and went over to her roommate, taking the cloak from her. Up close Elphaba smelled even more like smoke. The urge to kiss her, to smooth the worry lines away from her face, was overwhelming. 

Almost as if she could sense what Glinda was thinking, Elphaba turned her head away. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Glinda whispered. The dark made her feel braver, more vulnerable. “You could let me in. We could do this together, you know. I’m… I’m not going anywhere.” 

She reached down and twined her fingers through Elphaba’s slender ones, almost holding her breath. This, this was the moment she had been waiting for. Any minute now… 

“You’re not the one I’m worried about leaving,” Elphaba said, and tugged her hand away gently.

It hurt more than if she’d wrenched away, and Glinda knew, deep in the marrow of her bones, that Elphaba truly meant it. That she couldn’t keep trying with these stolen moments with her. That as long as she was involved in their quest, Elphaba would keep throwing those walls up, keep her at arm’s length, because she truly believed it was safer. 

Glinda wondered what it would take to make her realize it wasn’t. 

 

She slipped out again the next night once she was sure Glinda was asleep, not wanting a repeat of the night before. She could still feel Glinda’s fingers ghosting through her own, her nearness, the smell of her so close, and it made her want to double over in pain. It hurt worse than water, worse because she knew she was doing it to herself, that she was the one pushing her away. 

“It’s better this way,” she whispered to herself as she crossed the grounds, sticking to walled and treed areas until she reached the edge of the Suicide Canal. “It is.” 

But she didn’t believe it. 

Her skin prickled. She felt she was being watched. And perhaps she was, perhaps the trees themselves were leaning in to see her. 

“Hello?” she whispered. No one was supposed to meet her until later, but she’d had to get away while Glinda was still asleep. 

But there was no sound. 

She made her way along the canal bank, to the wrought-iron bars that encased the school grounds, murmuring _öffnen_ as she reached the two bars she wished to slip through, marveling at how they opened with ease. 

It was true what she’d said to Glinda—that Glinda was better at magic, would be a better sorceress. But that didn’t mean Elphaba hadn’t been reading up in her own time about spells and conjurings, how to whisper the right combination of old language to get your way. How old Kumbric Witch followers had claimed the tongue alone would make things happen for them, how one didn’t need to channel magic through an object, one simply had to _want_ hard enough.

And if there was anything Elphaba Thropp knew about, it was wanting. 

She pressed herself against the trunk of a tree, the bark rough against her back, blending in with the shadows behind her. 

“Hello?” she called again, but there was no answer. 

And then—a rustling near the edge of the woods, and Elphaba stiffened. 

She thought she saw a flash of metal, bronze glinting in the light from a faraway streetlamp, and her heart began to race. That dreadful tiktok thing of Morrible’s, if it found her here… 

“Come with me.” 

The voice was as rough as the hand on her wrist and Elphaba found herself being pulled, suddenly, deeper into the forest than she had dared to go before. She fought the instinctual urge to wrench away, to run, because somewhere in her mind she knew that whoever was pulling her was safer to be near than Grommetik. 

The person pulled her quickly so branches whipped against her skin, and she was grateful for the cloak around her face that shielded the worst of the blows.

They stopped in the middle of the clearing. Elphaba was panting, out of breath, the sweat that had begun to form on her skin stinging in the night air. 

“Are you who I’m supposed to meet?” she asked, but the figure, cloaked much like Elphaba, held a finger up to their lips. 

“Wait,” they said, and then murmured something in an old, forgotten language. If Elphaba squinted, she could see the faint shimmer of magic in the air, encircling them. 

The figure lowered their hood and turned to her once the spell was complete. She was an old woman, ancient, lines covering her craggy face like so many mountains and valleys. She looked at Elphaba as if she could see right through her, as if she had known her for a very, very long time. 

“Who are you?” Elphaba asked, but the figure shook her head as if to say _Not yet._

“You will learn,” the woman said. “For now, consider me a friend.” 

“My friends don’t drag me through the woods in the middle of the night.” Elphaba said.

“Your friends take care of you, as I do,” the woman said, and Elphaba frowned deeper. 

“Who are you?” She asked again.

“I am someone who wants to take down the Wizard. I am someone who has a common enemy with you, who has seen too long what regimes of men have done to Oz. And I am here to help.” 

Elphaba felt dizzy, her head spinning. She closed her eyes against the sensation, and when she opened them again, she was back in the courtyard, hurrying towards her dorm, the woods at her back. 

She didn’t remember. If she tried, she couldn’t. She remembered the woman but couldn’t recall her features, could only recall the deep, burning desire in her to _do something_ , to be part of something. 

She slipped into her room quietly and grabbed what little of Dillamond’s research there was, along with her own notes, and locked herself in the bathroom, not daring to turn on a light in case Glinda began to ask questions. 

She pored over the documents, looking for clues, looking for anything she could use to take down the Wizard.

And when the sun rose and Glinda opened the door, she saw her roommate curled up on the floor, her glasses askew, papers strewn around her and nowhere near closer to finding the answers she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update on this one! <3 Kudos and comments always appreciated.   
> (Also, I'm borrowing old Kumbric Witch spells from the German. Always feels like a language suited for magic.)


	13. Duality

They met again weeks later, Fiyero and Glinda and Elphaba and Crope. They weren’t in the same tavern; Elphaba didn’t want to risk it. Instead, they were in a well-lit cafe, one Glinda and Milla had frequented back when she barely pretended Elphaba existed. The cafe was empty except for a few older students who’d elected to stay, a family with a small child, and an Owl sitting in the corner, sleeping. 

“Should he be here?” Glinda asked, brow furrowing. “I mean I know he has a right to be, but for how long?” 

“Not long,” Elphaba murmured. “The Banns haven’t quite reached the city yet.” 

“You think they’d start them in a metropolitan area.” 

“No, they’ll do it quietly. Less of an uproar,” Elphaba said. “Start out in the Vinkus, in Munchkinland, and by the time they reach here… Well. Why protest when it’s already happening everywhere else?” 

Glinda fell silent. The rest of the table did, too. 

“What does everyone want to drink?” Glinda said determinedly after a second. “It’s my turn to treat this time.” 

“Cappuccino,” Crope said.

“Chai latte.” 

“Hot chocolate no water, please,” Elphaba said, not even bothering to look up at Glinda. 

“Whipped cream anybody?” Glinda asked, trying to muster up a smile. “Come on. My treat.” 

“Well, if you insist,” Crope said, and he grinned at her. Elphaba and Fiyero shook their heads, both staring down at the table. 

Glinda grabbed her purse and headed to the counter, clutching it to her side. And then—

She thought it wasn’t them but there they were. Pfannee and Milla and Shenshen, dressed in jewel tones for winter, cheeks flushed from the cold. Glinda kept her head down as she ordered. 

But they saw her anyway.

“Galinda?” 

Glinda turned, and in a flash she wasn’t Glinda in a rainy cafe with Elphaba, plotting resistance, she was Galinda, the girl who hadn’t cared about any of this last semester. 

“Girls! How are you?” Glinda said, faking politeness, not forgetting their last encounter. 

The girls smiled, no teeth. Glinda watched as Pfannee’s gaze flickered to their table, where Elphaba was sitting and scowling, Fiyero was staring out the window.

But Crope, bless him. Crope was staring right back at Pfannee, grinning as big as Glinda had ever seen him. 

And then he stood up, and bounded towards them. He held out his hand to  Pfannee, who did nothing but stare until he shook her hand.  

“Pfannee. Shenshen. Milla,” Crope said, and Glinda herself couldn’t help but gawk. The girls hid their giggles behind their hands. 

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” Shenshen said, and Glinda could swear she actually purred. 

“Master Crope, of The Pine Barrens. I do believe my father has done business with your families.” 

“Really?” Shenshen said. “How marvelous. And what does he do?” 

Crope grinned. “He’s a tax collector,” he said, and Shenshen’s face paled. 

“How dare—” she started, but Glinda pushed Crope behind her and gripped his elbow. 

“I will magick you,” she said, her voice low, “if you don’t leave this cafe and my friends this instant.” 

Shenshen’s nostrils flared, and she opened her mouth to reply, but then Milla grabbed her arm. 

“She’s not worth it, Shen,” she whispered, and the girls turned on their heels and left, skirts flouncing. 

Glinda found she was shaking as she let go of Crope, and then it was his turn to grab her elbow and gently steer her back to the table before going back and getting their drinks.

“Are you okay?” Elphaba asked as Glinda sat down. 

“I’m fine,” Glinda said as Crope reappeared with a glass of water and their drinks. “Really.” 

“Who were they?” Fiyero asked, and Glinda felt her face burn with shame. 

“Just some girls I used to hang out with. Former friends.” 

She couldn’t believe it now, sitting here with Fiyero and Elphaba and Crope, how blind she’d been, how little those girls meant to her when their opinions had meant so much before. She found herself blinking back tears suddenly. 

And then there was a warmth on her hand, and she looked over, hoping. But it was Crope, smiling gently at her. 

“Does your father really do business with their families?” Glinda asked, sniffing. 

“Oh—Pfannee and Milla, no. Their records are far too clean for my father to have any sort of dealings with them. Shenshen, however…” His voice turned wicked. “Let’s just say her father owes quite a fair amount of money to the wrong people. She’d never let you know it, of course, but her family is in debt up to their ears.” 

Glinda felt herself grin at the rightness of it. 

“I always wondered why you hung out with them,” Elphaba said suddenly, and Glinda turned to look at her. Her expression was sour. 

“Because I had to,” Glinda said. “Or—I was expected to.” 

“Who was expecting you to?” Elphaba frowned. 

“I—everyone. My family. Their families. There’s an intricacy to these things—” Glinda started, and then found herself cut off when Elphaba _laughed_. Glinda’s temper flared.

“Just because _you_ give no thought to social graces doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t have to,” she said hotly. 

“Why would I care about hanging out with girls like that just to improve my image?” Elphaba spat. 

“No, that’s right, because you don’t care.” Glinda’s voice grew shrill, and she barely registered Crope’s hand on her arm. “You don’t realize how _difficult_ it is, how some of us have to worry about navigating this world because of what everyone else expects of us.” 

“I know plenty about expectations,” Elphaba said, her voice low, her eyes burning into Glinda’s—the first time she’d really, directly looked at her since they’d kissed. “Just because I’m not some air headed society girl—”

“ _Stop_ ” Fiyero said, and he stood, slamming his hand down on the table. Glinda jumped. Elphaba flinched like she was about to be slapped. “Both of you. You’re being ridiculous. Can we focus on the matter at hand?” 

Glinda nodded, dumbstruck. Elphaba’s nostrils flared like she was going to protest, but she too stayed silent at a look from Crope. 

“So,” Fiyero said softly a moment later, “What’s our plan? What do we do next?” 

“I suppose it’s finding the rest of Dillamond’s research,” Elphaba said. “Finding where he hid it.” 

“And then what?” 

“We finish it,” she said. “I don’t… He had a breakthrough, before he died. But I don’t know how truly close he came to finishing his work, so… we need to. We need to complete it and we need to publish it, and then everyone—everyone will know. They’ll know he was right and that the Banns on Animals are _wrong_ and illegal and the Wizard…” Her voice trailed off. 

“What are we doing?” Elphaba asked, looking around at each of them in turn. “What do we hope to accomplish by doing this? I know what I want, but I… I want to hear what the rest of you think.” 

Glinda frowned down into her drink, her mind whirring.

“You want to take down the Wizard,” she said, when none of them spoke. She lifted her head and looked at Elphaba. “That’s right, isn’t it?” 

Elphaba said nothing, but Glinda knew she was right. 

“I told you, you can back out,” Elphaba said after a long moment, fixing her gaze on each of them. But Fiyero nodded stoicly and Crope flat-out grinned and Glinda met her gaze and she knew there was no turning back from this. 

“We’re not leaving,” Crope said, and he reached across the table to place his hand on Elphaba’s. “I think it’s time we start looking for the research, don’t you?” 

“Where could he have hidden it?” 

Elphaba frowned, a memory running through her head, sharp and sudden.

_“I… the library,” she blurted out suddenly, if only to keep herself from talking about her roommate. “It was locked, and normally it isn't, and when I was in there the other week that thing was in there. It's curious, isn't it?”_

_Doctor Dillamond made a sound something between a bleat and a snort._

_“Curious? Come, Elphaba, you're far more intelligent than that.”_

_“Sinister, then,” she corrected. “But I don't… forgive me but I don't see why she's got that thing lurking around the Crage Hall library. It's the only one open to women, therefore there's not a lot of information…”_

_The Goat studied her, smiling. “Yes, Elphaba, but it's the only library open to_ you _.”_

“I think I know,” she said, and they all looked at her. “I think I know where Dillamond hid his research.” 


	14. The Library

It was dark by the time they returned to campus. Elphaba was struck by how empty everything felt at night, since most of the students had returned home for break. Unease formed a hard ball in her stomach. She knew it was empty, knew the chances of them running into anyone were slim, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were putting themselves at risk by trying to break in.

But if they were going to take down the Wizard…

They made their way across the grounds silently, sticking to shadows and avoiding the open stone pathway. Elphaba pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, tried not to notice the way the light glinted off Glinda’s blonde curls.

“Glinda…” she started, but her voice stuck in her throat, and she didn’t seem to hear her. She was going to ask her to cover her hair, if only so she wouldn’t be so recognizable, but the words didn’t come. She shook them off.

“It’s going to be locked,” she said as they crossed the grounds to the library, sticking to the shadows. “Does anyone know another way in?”

The boys looked at each other and shook their heads. “There may be a servant’s entrance, but we don’t know where it is,” Crope said.

“Why would there be a service entrance to the library?”

“Who knows. Archaic Unionist tradition, maybe? Or there may be a men’s entrance, since this library is technically open to both and they want to keep us segregated…”

“I know a spell,” Glinda cut in. “It may work. We don’t need to find another entrance.”

The boys turned and looked at her in surprise, and she ducked her head. “I’m studying sorcery,” she murmured. “Not by choice.”

“I thought you wanted to do architecture?” Fiyero said, and Elphaba felt a tightness in her chest. How did he know that about her, when she had just figured it out the other day?

“I still do,” Glinda said lightly. But she didn’t look at Elphaba, she kept her gaze on Fiyero. “But we need sorcery right now. And Morrible… she’s insisting I do sorcery.”

“But you don’t have to listen to her,” Crope said. Elphaba made a noise in the back of her throat and the boys turned to look at her.

“We can discuss that later,” she said. “For now—Glinda?”

Glinda nodded and stepped forward. Elphaba was struck by her profile, edged in orange, her brow furrowed in concentration. She placed her hands flat on the door, perfectly manicured nails against the dark wood.For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the air around them charged. Glinda’s hair seemed to stand on edge. She planted her feet and screwed her eyes shut, and Elphaba thought she looked beautiful, powerful, magic soaring through her, even if it was just a simple unlocking spell.

The locking mechanisms in the door clicked, and it gently swung open. Fiyero and Crope looked at Glinda, impressed.

“It’s a good thing you’re studying sorcery,” Fiyero said appreciatively, and Elphaba felt her chest tighten.

Glinda managed a small smile. “I suppose it is useful, isn’t it?”

The four of them pushed their way in, footsteps echoing too loud on the wooden floors.

“Where do you think he would have hidden it?” Crope asked, and Elphaba frowned.

“I honestly don’t know. Should we split up and start searching?” If they split up it’d be faster to look, but there was a higher chance of being caught. Elphaba frowned.

“No one’s here,” Crope said, as if reading her mind. “They’ve all gone home for break. If we’re going to look, now is the best time to do it.”

“Great. Fiyero and I will go together,” Glinda said, and Elphaba felt that familiar twinge of jealousy in her stomach again. She was aware of her knuckles turning a paler green, the fabric of her dress clenched in her fists. Fiyero looked slightly startled, but didn’t say anything against it.

“We’ll take the second floor,” Crope said, and he looked at Elphaba, who nodded decisively. “Glinda, can you do some sort of spell for some light?”

“I don’t know how yet,” Glinda said, ducking her head. “Sorry.”

Crope waved off her apology. “Probably better, anyway. We don’t know if anyone’s lurking about, it’s better if they don’t see us.”

Elphaba swallowed down the knot in her throat. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but her heart was beating in fear. She told herself it was because it was dark, something she had never liked as a child. She told herself it was because they were that much closer to taking down the Wizard.

She told herself, told herself, told herself, but the real reason she was afraid was that her worst fears were becoming realized—something would happen to Glinda, and Elphaba would not be there to help her.

But Fiyero would. Fiyero seemed capable, much as Elphaba hated to admit it. Glinda would be fine.

They would all be fine.

 

Elphaba and Crope made their way to the second floor, wooden stairs creaking under them. Every movement made Elphaba think she was seeing Morrible out of the corner of her eye, or Grommetik, or something equally horrible. Every sound made her think they’d been caught.

“I wish Glinda knew a spell that could make this place quiet,” she muttered when Crope stepped on a loose floorboard.

“There’s no one here,” Crope said, placing a hand on her arm reassuringly. “Where should we start looking?”

“Restricted section seems most obvious,” Elphaba said, and decisively began to head that way. From below she heard Glinda’s faint laughter, and she stopped in her tracks.

_She’s not yours._

“Elphaba?”

“I’m fine,” she said abruptly, before Crope could question her further. She pushed her way deeper into the stacks of the library, running her fingers over spines. She didn’t know where to start looking. She didn’t know what she was doing, much as she didn’t want to admit that to the others.

“It hurts to see them with someone else, doesn’t it?” Crope said suddenly, startling Elphaba out of her thoughts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hissed, but Crope fixed her with such a look that she stopped. Elphaba frowned. “What do you know, you’re with who you want to be with,” she said. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“And I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Crope countered. “You love her.”

“You don’t know me,” Elphaba said. “Now help me look, now—now isn’t the time to talk about my feelings.”

This time it was Crope who frowned, but Elphaba was too keyed up to care. She made her way down the rows of books, ran her fingers over the sharp spines, almost hoping one would prick her just so she could have something tangible to focus on that wasn’t Glinda’s laugh or Crope’s accusing stare.

She studied spines for what felt like hours, Crope working diligently beside her, combing through pages for any scrap of research. As each hour passed Elphaba felt herself growing more and more frustrated.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” she said finally, huffing in frustration.

“I wonder if the others had any better luck,” Crope said, and Elphaba licked her dry lips. “Should we check?”

She nodded, putting the book she’d been looking at back on the shelf. Crope touched her gently on the arm.

“If you ever want to talk about it…” he started, but was interrupted by a shout from down below.

She raced down the stairs without thinking, Crope following close behind. They had found it, they must have. They had found Dillamond’s research.

Glinda and Fiyero were standing near one of the shelves, and Glinda was—to Elphaba’s utter dismay—clutching his arm. She was pointing, and Elphaba followed the line of her outstretched finger to a row of books that were covered in dust and age.

“We can’t pull those down,” Glinda said. “We tried. They must be magicked or something, but I can’t—I can’t get to them.”

Elphaba frowned. Something was off—Dillamond had told her before how he detested magic, in part because it had been used against Animals for centuries. Surely he wouldn’t…

But maybe he would, maybe so no one would guess.

Without thinking, she stretched her hand out toward the books, screwing her face in concentration.

And slowly, _slowly,_ the book made its way towards her. When it was merely inches away she reached out and grabbed it, expecting to feel something, to feel _different._

But it was just a book. She leafed through the pages but there was nothing, no note, no hidden code, nothing from Dillamond that would tell her she was on the right path.

“Anything?” Glinda asked in a small voice, and Elphaba couldn’t bear to shake her head.

“There’s nothing here,” she said, disappointment and bitterness filling her chest. Rage spiked through her and she hurled the book with all her might against the ground, the others hurrying to get out of her way.

“Why—why would he do this?” she said. “Why lead us on this wild-Goose-chase if we aren’t going to _find_ anything? Why all this talk of revolution and changing the world and needing to preserve his research if there’s _nothing_ here for us?”

Her voice caught, and she angrily brushed the beginnings of tears out of her eyes. Crying would do no good.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” she said fiercely. She turned to the boys. “Can you two do another sweep? I want to make sure that crash didn’t alert anyone to the fact we’re here.”

They nodded solemnly and headed out; Glinda lingered back.

“Can I help?” she asked softly, tentatively.

“No. Go help the boys look,” Elphaba said.

“Elphie, I…”

“Not now, Glinda,” Elphaba snapped, and Glinda shrank back from her and hurried off after Crope before Elphaba could take it all back.

 


	15. Scars and Secrets

The boys and Glinda returned fifteen minutes later, all shaking their heads. Elphaba was pacing back and forth furiously, the book still in her hands. Every once in awhile she would flip open the pages in frustration as if she expected to still find something there.

But there was nothing, and she knew it.

Her frustration grew so by the time they left the library, her hands were clenched into fists. Crope and Fiyero shot worried glances at each other, but it was Glinda who hurt the most, if only because she knew there was nothing she could do to fix it.

“We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” Elphaba said tiredly. They stopped in the middle of the lawn, and she glanced over her shoulder at Dillamond’s office, half-expecting to see a light on.

But there was nothing.

“See you then,” Crope replied, and he and Fiyero set off across campus. The girls watched them leave.

As soon as the boys stepped off the lawn, thunder cracked overhead where there had been a clear sky only moments before. Elphaba frowned, looking up at it.

“We should get inside,” Glinda said softly, and no sooner had she said anything then it began to rain. Not a rain, but a downpour, torrential like a waterfall. Both girls were soaked before they had time to react.

“Run!” Glinda shrieked, but Elphaba stood there in shock. Without thinking, Glinda grabbed the taller girl’s hand and pulled her along, not stopping until they were safe under the archway.

“Elphaba,” Glinda said, panicked at the red welts already beginning to appear on her roommate’s skin. Elphaba hissed, sucking in air through her teeth.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just get to the room.”

“But—”

“If you argue with me it’ll take more time,” she gritted out, and Glinda shut her mouth. They walked along the corridor, taking care to stay away from the flood of water, and pushed inside the dormitory.

No sooner had they stepped in, creating dripping puddles on the floor, than Glinda glanced out the window to see the sky completely clear.

“Elphaba…” she started. “Look.”

Elphaba glanced up, a frown darkening her face. “Let’s go. Now.”

Her tone left little room for argument. She leaned heavily on Glinda as they made their way up to the second floor, wincing against the pain. She bargained with herself—if she made it through this, she would do whatever it took to take down the Wizard, and Morrible, and the whole damned system. She would devote the rest of her life to destroying whatever she could.

They finally reached their room, and Glinda hurried to unlock the door. She stepped inside and immediately magicked a fire into the fireplace, filling the room with an orange glow.

“Clothes off,” she said, trying her best to sound authoritative even with a shaking voice.

“Turn around,” Elphaba said.

“Elphaba, we don’t have time for your modesty, they’re burning you—here,” Glinda said, and rushed over to her roommate, her trembling fingers working at the buttons on Elphaba’s dress.

“Don’t worry about tearing it, it’s ruined anyway,” Elphaba said, peering at Glinda from over her shoulder. “It’ll go faster if it tears.”

Glinda nodded, and knotted the fabric in her fingers, ripping it at the seams. Elphaba winced.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head. “No. Just get it off.”

She split the dress down the back, sliding it off Elphaba's shoulders. The welts were surrounded by blotchy patches of purple and red, a stark contrast with Elphaba's own green skin, the small parts where—miraculously—no water had touched.

And below were still those silvery scars, the crisscrossing ones Glinda had paid no mind to, and smaller patches of puckered green skin shaped almost like drops.

"Oh Elphie," Glinda breathed as she slipped the dress over her waist, and she felt Elphaba tense at her touch. Her back was bare, there was no bra or any of the other lacy trappings girls wore to make themselves pretty.

"Can you get it from here?" Glinda said, and Elphaba nodded, quickly shucking her dress down over her hips and revealing a pair of plain black shorts that almost looked like boys' underthings. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and quickly pinned it back so the wet of it wouldn't touch her skin. Glinda tried not to stare at her skin, or the scars, or even just Elphaba herself.

"My oils are in my nightstand drawer," Elphaba said after a minute, her arms folded across her chest, her back still to Glinda. "I can get most of the burns but I... I'll need your help."

It took Glinda a moment to realize what Elphaba was asking. “S-sure,” she finally said, and walked over to the nightstand, hands shaking.

She opened the drawer and there—Oz, she hadn’t realized how many oils Elphaba had, and so meticulously labeled. She picked a larger jar labeled “Burns,” filled with a thick, almost syrup-like brown liquid. Another labeled “Soothe,” almost the same green as Elphaba herself.

Glinda picked up the bottles with shaking hands and walked back over to Elphaba, taking time to assess the damage before she did so. Elphaba's legs were largely unscathed, as tall boots and thick woolen socks, in addition to the fact her skirt flowed outward, kept away most of the water.

"Turn around," Glinda said.

"Why?"

"I need to see how bad the rest of it is."

"Can you just get my back?"

"No, because knowing you you're going to lie to me about how bad the pain is and not treat it."

"Glinda," Elphaba said, an edge in her voice, "I think I know how to take care of myself, of my own body."

"Can't you just, for once, let me help you?" Glinda snapped.

Elphaba sighed. She seemed too tired to argue, or perhaps was in too much pain, because she gave Glinda a small nod and turned so more of her back was exposed so she could help.

Glinda unscrewed the stopper to the bottle labeled "Burns." It was thick as tar and had a medicinal smell to it, though it wasn't sticky.

"Where do you get these?" Glinda asked as she warmed the oil between her palms.

“They’re Quadling remedies,” Elphaba murmured. “When I was a child…” Her voice trailed off as Glinda ran her hands gently over the worst parts on her shoulders. “Turtle Heart brought them once they learned of my allergies.”

Glinda held her breath. Elphaba had mentioned Turtle Heart in passing before, but never fully—she rarely spoke about her childhood at all. And Glinda felt, rightly so, that if she asked Elphaba then she wouldn’t get an answer.

“Does it sting?” she asked instead.

“I’m used to it,” Elphaba said softly. Glinda’s hands slipped down to the small of her back, working the oils in, and Elphaba sucked in a breath. Glinda tried not think of how she was touching her, the fact she was touching her at all.

“Your back’s done,” she said after a moment. “I’ll… I’ll let you get the rest.”

Elphaba took the oils from Glinda’s hands. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I…”

But she couldn’t find the words. She looked up and suddenly Glinda was so near, too near. But Elphaba didn’t want to draw back. It was Glinda who pulled away first, and that, coupled with the sudden remembrance of Glinda laughing with Fiyero, made Elphaba’s cheeks flame.

She turned her back to Glinda again, her hands rubbing the thick oil over her shoulders.

“Can you give me some privacy?” she asked after a moment.

“As long as you promise you’re actually going to treat your burns.”

Elphaba frowned. “Yes. I promise.”

Glinda nodded, and headed to the bathroom, shutting herself in. She stole a glance at herself in the mirror, the rain having dampened her curls. Her cheeks were flushed, and too late she realized that the dress she’d worn was clinging to her in… well. Certain places.

Oz, had Elphaba been looking and not even realized?

But that was a stupid thought, when Elphaba had been so hurt by that downpour.

Something began to whir in Glinda’s brain, some mechanical process of thought, another long-forgotten conversation with Morrible.

“Elphaba?” Glinda called through the door.

“Come on.”

Glinda made her way out. Elphaba was sitting on her bed, her back still to Glinda, her arms seemingly crossed. The oil made her skin shine, the silvery scars more visible.

“What are those?” Glinda asked, Morrible momentarily forgotten.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because…”

But she couldn’t think of a good reason.

“They’re burns, Glinda.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

“No,” Elphaba said. “I know.” She pointed to her closet. “Can you grab a nightgown for me, please?”

“Sure,” Glinda said. She headed to the closet, began rifling through Elphaba’s dresses. “We need to take you shopping, Elphie,” she said, momentarily slipping back into Galinda. “Some of these are completely worn through.” She fingered a slip that had patches haphazardly sewn into the elbows. “Or maybe I could fix them with magic…”

“If you magick my clothing there’s a chance it’ll come alive in the middle of the night and kill us both,” Elphaba said, and when Glinda looked at her there was a trace of a smile on her face.

“Please, I’m not that advanced,” Glinda said. “Morrible, maybe. Not me.” She handed Elphaba a nightgown, a soft worn material she’d clearly had for many years. “How often do you need to reapply the oils?” She asked like she was curious, not like she wanted an excuse to touch her again.

“Daily, for the first few days until the burns fade,” Elphaba said. She grimaced. “I wish we could go to the nurse.”

“Why can’t we?” Glinda asked, sitting on the bed next to Elphaba once she’d dressed, careful to keep her distance.

“Because I don’t want Morrible to know.”

“Know what?” Glinda asked, and Elphaba fixed her with a look.

“You really aren’t that naïve, I know.”

“You think she did it,” Glinda said. “The storm.”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Glinda said quietly. “I do. She told me once—before. In sorcery. She’s hinted she has some talent for the weather.”

“She knows I’m allergic to water,” Elphaba said. “It—it’s in my student file. So.”

“That was more than knowing you’re allergic to water. That much could have—Elphaba, she could have killed you.”

Elphaba nodded. Her hand was so near Glinda could have reached out and grabbed it, twined their fingers together, but she didn’t dare.

“How did you and Fiyero find that book, anyway?” Elphaba asked after a minute. “The one that wouldn’t move.”

“We just… kept trying books,” Glinda said. “And it wouldn’t move. Was it Dillamond’s?”

“No,” Elphaba said. “I don’t think so. He hated magic. I think—I think Morrible did it. She knew we’d be looking, and the second we tried to move the book…”

“She knew,” Glinda finished. Then… “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’re not that naïve,” Glinda parroted. She put her hand back on her lap. “Because of… because of Fiyero. And what happened in the cafe.”

“What happened in the café was just a misunderstanding and has no bearing on my feelings for you,” Elphaba said.

“Come Elphaba, I know it wasn’t. You think… well. You don’t understand what it’s like for me—”

“Being blonde and pretty and popular?” Elphaba spat, with more malice than she intended. Glinda flinched.

“No. I—never mind.” She stood. “You really do only think of me as some airheaded bimbo, don’t you?”

Elphaba softened. “Glinda…”

“Those are your words—what you said in the cafe. I may not be bookish and yes, I may have grown up in a completely different environment than you, but that—that doesn’t mean I can’t think for myself, that I’m not—I’m not capable. Not all of us can care as little as you.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. Elphaba’s expression didn’t change.

“I’m sorry—” Glinda started, but Elphaba held up a hand.

“Just don’t. We’re tired. I’m hurt. It’s not a good time.”

“It’s never going to be a good time, is it?” Glinda asked, but she didn’t think Elphaba heard her. She stood in front of the fire for a moment before resigning herself to get ready for bed, the only thoughts running through her head on how she could prove herself to Elphaba, how she could make her finally see how valuable she was, how much she needed her.

She just had to figure out a way to make Elphaba realize it.

She murmured a spell under her breath and the fire extinguished. Glinda lay in bed, the only sound Elphaba’s breathing.

“Elphaba?” she ventured.

But there was no response.


	16. Great or Good

Glinda woke in the middle of the night, head full of fearful dreams, of Elphaba falling into the Suicide Canal, of another thunderstorm, death by fire and water.

She woke drenched in sweat and fumbled for the lamp on her nightstand. Elphaba was still curled up with her back still to her, and Glinda couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or not, for she gave no response.

She couldn’t do this. Couldn't keep sitting idly by while Elphaba did all the work, all the while insisting she was capable.

She had to _do something._

Quietly, the way Elphaba had so many nights before, Glinda slipped out of bed. She put her shoes on and took a cloak from Elphaba's closet, watching for another minute at the other girl's sleeping form.

She hoped she was making the right decision, but she didn't know what that was anymore.

 

The grounds were eerily quiet as she made her way across them, no evidence of the earlier storm. She knew, subconsciously, where she was going, but it wasn't until she arrived on the steps of the administration building that what she was about to do really hit her.

She shivered and pulled Elphaba's cloak tighter around her. It was warm, and it smelled like her, and it was that that gave Glinda the courage to push open the door.

She'd only been in this building once before, at the start of the semester when she'd requested a new roommate. But it was as if some invisible force was pulling her along, because she found she still knew the way to the Headmistress's office.

The light was on, the door cracked as if Morrible was expecting her--and Glinda had the sneaking suspicion she was. When she pushed open the door, the Headmistress was already staring up at her, lips curled in a small smile.

"Miss Glinda. It's quite a time of night for you to be out."

"I thought I would clear my head, Madame," Glinda said, hating how her voice shook.

"Is something troubling you?" She asked this with an almost flat tone, looking at Glinda as if she were almost _bored_ with their conversation.

Grommetik whirled forward from its place in the corner, holding a tea tray. Glinda fought the urge to shrink back from it, wondering if it had been watching them in the library earlier.

“Tea?” Morrible asked. The kettle she was using to boil water caught the firelight, looking to Glinda all too sinister.

“No thank you,” Glinda said. Morrible nodded, and took a cup for herself as Grommetik wheeled over to her.

“Have a seat, dear,” Morrible said, and something about the tone of her voice made Glinda feel like it was a requirement rather than a suggestion.

Glinda sat. She fiddled with the hem of Elphaba’s cloak, watched as Morrible stirred three lumps of sugar into her tea.

"I do hope you didn't get caught in that dreadful downpour earlier," the Head said casually.

"N-no," Glinda stuttered. "I was inside." Madame Morrible made a noise in the back of her throat, but she didn't say anything else. She took a sip of her tea, eyeing Glinda over the mug, who repressed an urge to shudder.

What was she doing? Here? With a woman who had, most likely, tried to kill Elphaba earlier, had certainly killed Doctor Dillamond. A woman who may have been working for the Wizard?

She swallowed. She was in over her head, and she knew it. She should just turn around now, go back to bed.

But back to what? Elphaba, who was so hell bent on protecting her all she did was push her away? Back to trying to prove herself capable and constantly being ignored.

Well, here was her chance to do something, wasn’t it? She had to take it.

The Head kept stirring her tea.

“What can you tell me about Doctor Dillamond?” Glinda blurted. Morrible raised an eyebrow. “About his death, I mean,” Glinda amended.

“I don’t know why a girl like you would want to hear about such dreadful things,” Morrible said. “Or why in Oz you would assume I would know anything?”

Glinda bit her tongue. “It’s just curious,” she said finally. Morrible said nothing, just stared intently at her over her cup.

“How are your studies coming?” she asked abruptly, standing and setting her saucer on her desk.

“Right now they aren’t—but it’s break,” Glinda said. “And I… I’m taking sorcery with you next term, since I declared.”

 _Since you made me declare,_ she thought, but didn’t say it.

“My offer to find you a new roommate whose interests line up with yours still stands, you know,” Morrible said, almost casually.

“Elphaba and I are… well. I’ve grown to tolerate her,” Glinda said, her heart pounding. Morrible turned back to her.

“I don’t see how you could develop a tolerance, when she hardly seems to care about you,” she said, flashing a dangerous smile. Glinda thought she’d heard wrong.

“Madame?”

“You’re not nearly as naive as you would have everyone believe, Miss Upland,” the Head said, her voice growing cold. “It’s obvious to everyone how you feel. How she feels about you—or doesn’t, rather. You think I believe you want to know what happened to _poor Doctor Dillamond_ out of curiosity? You think I don’t know you were sneaking around the library earlier?”

Glinda couldn’t move. Not because she was paralyzed by fear, or maybe because she was, but she couldn’t move a limb. Could barely try.

“You want to know what happened to Doctor Dillamond? To students who dare to cross me? You want to know why I haven’t decided to put an end to you and Miss Thropp’s little games of playing detective? It’s because, Miss Upland, I think you will be useful to me.”

Morrible turned to face Glinda, and her expression was something fearful and terrible.

“Doctor Dillamond,” she said, “knew too much. Was too close to discovering something we couldn’t let him discover, something that would set back years of the Wizard’s progress. Because that’s what this is, dear— _progress._ And in every example of progress, sacrifices must be made. For the _greater good._ ”

She smiled, and it was wicked.

“And you, Miss Upland, can be the greatest _good_ of all.”

 

She didn’t know where she was.

They found her later, the boys, wandering by the Suicide Canal in Elphaba’s cloak. Crope took her back to his room, because she balked at going back to Elphaba.

She couldn’t remember a thing.


	17. Fault and Blame

She went to throw on her cloak and discovered it was missing; racing across the courtyard not even caring if she was seen. It didn't matter. Something had happened to Glinda. Something had happened and the boys hadn't told her until a day later.

She'd spent the evening muttering spells under her breath, anything that came to mind. Spells for protection. For healing. Anything she could think of because she didn't know what happened. She'd never been in the boy's dorm, or even to their part of campus, and she had no way of finding Crope's room.

But Glinda needed her, and she would knock on every door she had to if it meant being with her.

How could she have been so _stupid?_ She had done this. If she hadn’t pushed her away, if she had just not gotten her involved in the first place, then Glinda would be safe.

Maybe she would hate her, but she would be safe, and wasn’t that better?

She raced through two floors, listening for sounds, because most everyone had gone home so she could eliminate some rooms that way. And she would have kept going like that had she not run into Crope in the hall.

“Crope!” she called, and he turned.

“Elphaba.”

His eyes were narrowed, and she was surprised by the hostility in his face. She rushed up to him.

“Crope, what—how is—”

He set his mouth in a flat line, and she frowned. “Crope, what is it?” She clutched desperately at his hands, but he swatted her away.

“She can’t remember anything,” he said, turning away, and she had no choice but to follow him.

“Anything?” Elphaba whispered.

“No, not—not like that. About what happened to her. She remembers fighting with you, and that’s it. She doesn’t know why she lost her memory, or why we found her wandering around the Suicide Canal.”

Elphaba blanched at the name.

“Crope, then what…?”

“Do you get it?” he snapped, and when he turned to face her again there were tears in his eyes. “She did this because of you. She went out in the middle of the night trying to prove herself because of _you._ She got hurt because of you, because if you weren’t so damn stubborn, if you didn’t—”

He shook his head. “Forget it.”

“Can I see her?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Crope said. “It took us ages to calm her down and convince her you weren’t coming.”

“Calm her down?”

“She’s afraid you’re mad at her. Goes into a frenzy if we mention it. I think… I think it would be best for you to go,” he said, and it was the gentlest thing he had said to her since she’d seen him.

“Please let me see her,” she said. They were stopped in a stairwell, and Elphaba found herself looking up to Crope as he stood a few steps ahead of her. She took a step up so they were at eye level.

“Let me make this right,” she said. “Glinda… Glinda is hurt because of me. You’re right, I know that. But if I can heal her, if I can just find Dillamond’s research, I can _fix_ this,” she said, and her voice broke. “I should never have involved any of you.”

“Elphaba, that’s not—that’s not what I’m saying.”

“But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” she said. Crope fell silent.

“Can you heal her?” he asked, and didn’t let her reply before turning and walking further up the stairs.

“I can try.”

She saw him nod. “I’ll help you find the research.”

“Crope, please…”

“If you think we’re letting you do this alone after what happened to Glinda then you’re stupider than you look, Elphaba Thropp,” he said, and opened the door into another hallway. “Come on. My room’s at the end of this hallway.”

She followed him, even though the further she stepped down the hallway, the more she wondered if she was doing the right thing by involving them at all, and if everything would be better if she just—

disappeared.

Crope’s room was much like Elphaba and Glinda’s own, if a mirror image. Fiyero was sitting on a bed Elphaba assumed was Tibbett’s, if only because there were no sheets on it at all.

And in Crope’s bed, was Glinda. Elphaba felt her fists clench at the sight of her.

She had caused this. This was her fault.

Glinda was curled up with her back to the three of them, fists clenched under her chin. Her hair was limp and matted, and around her as a blanket was Elphaba’s cloak.

“She won’t take it off,” Fiyero murmured, and Elphaba felt a shooting stab of pain in her chest.

“When… when did you find her?”

“Early this morning,” Crope said.

“I went for a run around seven, and…” Fiyero waved his hand towards her. “I couldn’t think of what to do, so I brought her here.”

“You should have brought her to me.”

“She didn’t want to see you,” Crope said.

Glinda stirred, clutching Elphaba’s cloak tighter around her shoulders. Crope turned back to Elphaba.

“She hasn’t been very responsive,” he said in a low voice. “Someone may have magicked her, a curse, something.”

“Who?” Fiyero asked, but Elphaba already knew who.

“She went to see Morrible,” Elphaba said, voice tight. "She… she felt like she had to."

She didn't say why. They all knew.

“Do you think she asked about Dillamond?”

“I don’t think we’ll know what she asked,” Elphaba said. “I don’t think she remembers.”

“Do you think…” Fiyero started again, but Elphaba set her lips in a thin line so her mouth nearly disappeared.

“Whatever Morrible did to Glinda, it’s a powerful spell. I honestly doubt Glinda even remembers meeting with her.”

“Can you fix it?” Crope asked, and she turned to look at him. The look he leveled her with was one of hope, of pity—but also of anger. Of blame.

_This is your fault._

“I don’t know,” Elphaba said. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.”

"Glinda?" Elphaba said, pushing her way through the boys, kneeling and placing her bony fingers on the smaller girl's shoulder. Glinda stirred.

"I'm here, my sweet," Elphaba whispered. "I'm here."

She leaned her head on Glinda's shoulder and the boys looked at each other uncomfortably as Elphaba began murmuring spells and prayers unsee her breath, a blasphemous mix of both, anything she could think of to heal the girl she loved, hoping and wishing and praying it wasn't too late.


	18. Decisions and Fate

She kept vigil at Glinda's bed throughout the rest of the afternoon. The boys finally convinced her it would be best for them all if they left for dinner and let Glinda sleep, if only because they knew Elphaba wouldn’t leave unless they dragged her out of there.

The three of them didn’t talk until they were a ways off campus, and Elphaba didn’t even know where they were heading until they were standing in front of the same tavern they had visited the first time they met. She realized in her fog of worry that it was the first time she’d been alone with the boys, ever, without Glinda there.

Thinking of Glinda caused an ache in her chest. She was responsible for Glinda lying in that bed, shivering with no memories. She was responsible for Glinda going to visit Morrible.

Hell and Oz, maybe she should have just let her kiss her.

“Elphaba,” Crope said gently, a hand on her arm. “There’s nothing you can do right now. Stop thinking about it.”

She bit back a sudden onslaught of tears and nodded. The boys flanked her as they walked into the dimly lit pub.

Immediately, the atmosphere was different. No longer were the anti-Wizard sentiments posted on the walls, no longer were there any Animals in view. Instead there was just the bar owner, slumped over on the bar, looking like he was asleep. A guard in the traditional Emerald City uniform stood in the corner, blending into the shadows so Elphaba had to look twice to see him.

They headed back to that same table in the back, the three of them, feeling the absence of their other companions all the more intensely.

"When does Tibbett return?" Fiyero asked as they sat down. "Surely he must have written you."

The tips of Crope's ears turned scarlet. "He doesn't know if he'll be able to return," he said, and they all leaned in closer. "The Banns are creeping closer to the city now; they may not be letting people out soon."

"You're kidding," Fiyero whispered, and Elphaba bit her lip.

"It's not just Animals, either," Crope continued. "It's--they're starting to enforce them on anyone who doesn't belong, anyone of lower class status. Munchkins," he added, and his eyes met Elphaba's.

"Boq," she said softly.

"Actually I was thinking about you," Crope said. "You're a Munchkinlander."

Elphaba shook her head. "I'm next in line to be the Eminent, it's unlikely that will affect me. As far as family, I don’t think Father will send Nessa to Shiz now, not when everything is so fragile. But Boq... Oz, what if they don't let him back for the semester?"

"I'm sure it won't go that far," Crope said, but his tone was uncertain. Fiyero stared down into his flask.

"I should have gone home," he said quietly. "I should be with my people."

"Will they let you travel?" Elphaba asked, not as well-versed on Vinkan politics as she perhaps hoped to be.

"I'm royal, so yes," Fiyero said, but his tone was tinged with disgust. "I can afford to. My people can't, and it's such an imbalance."

“It was for Dillamond, too,” Elphaba said. “Not that it’s the same.”

“No,” Fiyero said quietly, and the three of them stared down into their drinks.

“Tibbett will be fine,” Elphaba said after a moment, her hand coming to rest gently on Crope’s. “His father works for the palace, doesn’t he?”

Crope nodded. “As a security adviser. He’s been trying to get me information, but they’re starting to read all mail coming out from the palace now, too.”

Elphaba shook her head. “Oz.” She took a sip of her drink, wished it was stronger. “What… what about Glinda?” It was the first time she’d said her name since they’d left her back in Crope’s dorm. “Morrible must have put something powerful on her, something so she can’t—I don’t know what to do,” she finished, her voice so low the boys could barely hear her.

“You can’t blame yourself,” Crope said, and she shot him a look.

“Why, when you were so keen to?”

“I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need either of you to help,” she snapped, and Fiyero placed a hand on her arm. She stiffened.

“What happened to Glinda is my fault,” Elphaba said slowly. “So I’m the one who needs to fix it. I need to find Dillamond’s research.”

“And what will you do after that?” Crope challenged. “What do you think you’re going to do with that research, alone?”

“I’m going to replicate it.”

“You don’t know if you can do that.”

“I can,” she said, her eyes flashing. “I have to.”

“And then what? You’ll march into the Wizard’s palace and demand an audience, show him the research, and all of this will magically stop? The Banns? Animals will suddenly be afforded a place?” Crope leaned towards her. “What are you trying to _do,_ Elphaba?”

“I’m trying to take down the Wizard,” she hissed, and it was like the bar grew even quieter. Elphaba saw Crope’s eyes dart towards the Guard, but he made no move towards them.

“Then you’ll need help.”

“I don’t want either of you involved,” Elphaba said. “Besides. You need to stay here, finish your studies, be where it’s _safe_ —I don’t want—I don’t want something to happen to you.”

 _Like Glinda,_ she thought, and it was like the boys sensed that.

“Glinda got hurt because she wanted to help and you wouldn’t let her,” Crope said. “What do you think will happen if you try to stop me and Fiyero the same way?”

Fiyero looked at him. “Crope…”

“You don’t get to shut us out,” Crope said. “Not anymore.”

“Watch me,” Elphaba snapped, and stood up. “I’m going home. I’m going back to check—I’m going home.”

“You shouldn’t walk alone,” Fiyero said, but Elphaba was gone by the time the last words left his mouth.

 

Dillamond’s voice echoed in her head as she walked.

_You’re going to need friends. You can’t do this alone._

Damn him, what had he known? She had to do this alone. She couldn’t risk any of them getting hurt.

Her thoughts turned again to Glinda, lying in Crope’s bed, small and fragile because Elphaba hadn’t let her help, because Elphaba had pushed her.

It was Elphaba's fault. It was all her fault.

She was the one who had to fix it, friends and feelings be damned. She would cross Morrible if she had to.

She would kill if she had to, she suddenly knew, and the thought made her shiver. So focused was she in her thoughts she hardly noticed the cat until it was too late. Her boot caught on something and she pitched forward, righting herself just in time, and turning.

It was a Cat, glowering at her.

"Sorry," Elphaba apologized. "I didn't see you."

"No one ever does," the Cat said. "Though only one before you has apologized."

"I'm sorry again," Elphaba said, "that no one's showed you the courtesy."

From the alley there was the faint sound of mewing, and the Cat's head started towards it.

"Kittens?"

"Only two," the Cat said, her tone filled with despair. "The rest--well. Oz isn't safe these days."

"May I help?" Elphaba asked. But the Cat just turned and walked back to the alley, her tail flicking as if she didn’t care if Elphaba followed or not.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She should be hurrying back to Shiz, back to Glinda, or at least back to the tavern with the boys. But something was telling her to follow the Cat, at least for the moment.

Elphaba gathered her skirt and set off down the alley until she was at a brick wall. There was a small overturned milk crate propped up next to a trash bin, and she bent down to look inside.

The Cat was curled up, Kittens nursing. One of them was small and gray, but the other would have been a brilliant white if not for the dirt. It looked up at Elphaba with bright blue eyes.

“Hi,” she whispered, and looked at the Cat. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” the Cat said.

“What did you need to see me for?” Elphaba said, and the Cat looked up at her, its gaze unblinking.

“We’ve heard tell of you,” the Cat said. “Some of Dillamond’s old colleagues. Birds and others.”

“Well, there are no other green people around as far as I know,” Elphaba said, scowling.

“Not that. He spoke of your brilliance. Of your dedication, your passion.” The Cat gave a sound almost like a sigh. “Few of us knew what Dillamond was truly working on before he was killed. But if it’s what we suspected, then you’re the only one who can carry it on.”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know,” the Cat said. “But we’ve been told things. Whispers. Oz is growing closer to turmoil, and someone needs to stop it.”

She got up, rubbed herself against Elphaba’s ankles. “You have friends in Oz, Elphaba Thropp,” she said. “If you just knew. We need you to do this.”

And with words like that, what choice did she have?

Elphaba thought, suddenly, of the meeting in the woods, a memory she’d only had hazy recollection of until that moment. She remembered the old woman, the burning desire she’d filled her with to take down the Wizard.

And she thought again of Glinda lying small in her bed.

She had to do something. They were right. She couldn’t wait around anymore, not at school, not under Morrible’s thumb. She had to leave, to take down the Wizard, and if she had to do it herself—she would.

* * *

 

Glinda slept fitfully. Her head was filled with images, snatches of conversation and flashes of light, things she couldn’t quite place.

Her body was burning. Or it felt like it was, magic a tight grip on her veins so if she tried to even remember she couldn’t.

 _Fight back,_ someone said, and it was Elphaba’s voice in her head. _You’re stronger than this—resist it._

But why, when sleep was so comforting, and when trying to remember was so painful?

She woke with a gasp, shivering in a room she didn’t recognize, blankets tangled around her ankles.

What had happened? Where was she? Her mind searched frantically for any recollection but there was nothing but gray fog and a sharp pain behind her eyes if she dared even try.

Gingerly she pushed herself out of bed, glancing around. The room was almost as bare as Elphaba’s own side, though the desk was piled high with textbooks. She went to the closet and opened it, revealing men’s clothes for a frame almost as small as her. Behind the typical clothes were flashier pieces, a feather boa, lace underthings.

Crope and Tibbett. Of course.

Glinda shook her head, wondering how she’d ended up in Crope’s room, but that dull pain came back when she thought of it. Her mouth was dry, and she felt lightheaded.

She headed to the bathroom the boys shared with the adjacent dorm and cupped water into her hands, drinking until she felt slightly better.

Where was Crope? And Fiyero? And—

Her chest hurt at the thought of Elphaba. The last thing she remembered was that overwhelming need to help, to prove herself, the anger and hurt she’d felt at Elphaba pushing her away.

She looked down. She wasn’t wearing shoes, and the tile of the bathroom was cool against her feet.

Why couldn’t she remember?

She sighed and sat back down on the bed, noticing the bottoms of her feet were dirty.

_Okay. So I was outside. What else?_

Her hands shook, and her head hurt, but she forced herself to think through it. _I was outside. I was outside. I was--_

But her brain wouldn’t let her go any further than that. She groaned in frustration and flopped back down on the bed.

When Elphaba returned, hours later, Glinda was the way she’d left her, curled up on her side asleep, no closer to having remembered at all.


	19. Watching and Waiting

The spring term was set to start in two days, and soon Shiz was bustling with activity, carriages and students returning, trying to shed coats for lighter frocks even though there was still a chill in the air. Elphaba, Fiyero, Crope, and Glinda met Tibbett’s carriage, watching as Crope scooped him up and passionately kissed him.

Glinda felt her face burn, watching them. In the past few days since she’d woken up and gone back to her own dorm, Elphaba had barely spoken to her, treating her as if she were something fragile and breakable.

It wasn’t for lack of trying on Glinda’s part, though. She’d been trying to remember, as much as she could. Once she’d suggested Elphaba going down to the apothecary and getting a potion, maybe something that would help.

“I’m not risking you like that,” Elphaba said, and that had been the end of it. Glinda was too frightened to go down there herself.

She hoped Elphaba was still taking care of her burns. Elphaba had taken to changing in their shared bathroom, and any offers Glinda made to help were brushed off.

Elphaba knew how to take care of herself, though. She’d made that clear. So Glinda didn’t push, as much as she wanted to.

And oh, she wanted to.

“When does Boq come back?” she asked, if only to have something to talk about now that they were all back together. The five of them had walked down to by the Suicide Canal, and Glinda felt a shiver go through her at the place, Elphaba watching her hawkishly.

Why couldn’t she _remember?_

Elphaba and Fiyero exchanged a glance, and Glinda felt a pain in her chest from being left out. “What?”

“He sent a letter a few days ago,” Crope said quietly, his fingers playing with Tibbett’s hair. “He’s going to be delayed. There’s a lot of unrest in Munchkinland, it’s difficult for anyone to travel there right now. They’re having to make special accommodations for students.”

Elphaba was gnawing on her lower lip as the group turned to her. “Did you know about this?” Tibbett asked.

“I knew some.”

“Can’t your family do anything?” Crope asked, and Glinda was surprised at the animosity in his voice. He’d been on edge around Elphaba since--well, since he and Fiyero had found Glinda by the canal.

“They don’t control the trains.”

“I know that, but couldn’t you—couldn’t you arrange for your father to grant him special accommodations, or something?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Your Grandfather is the Eminent Thropp of Munchkinland, and you’re next in line,” Crope snapped. “How does it not work like that? Don’t you miss Boq? Or are you too set on being alone to care about us anymore?”

Elphaba stood. For one wild moment Glinda feared she was going to hex Crope, put a spell on him, something. Instead, she closed her eyes, breathing in. Glinda watched as she tried to control herself, as Tibbett put a hand on Crope’s arm.

“I’m going to the library,” Elphaba said, her voice soft and dangerous. “And then I’m going to write a letter to Boq, and a letter to my father. And don’t you ever tell me I don’t care,” she hissed, and left the rest of them sitting by the canal uncomfortably.

“What’s wrong with her?” Tibbett asked, and Crope and Fiyero filled him in—on trying to find Dillamond’s research, on their meetings in the taverns, on Glinda being cursed. Glinda chewed the edges of her cuticles at that part, if only so she wouldn’t have to hear it.

“She’s spending all her time there lately,” Glinda said towards the end, when they mentioned their attempts to look for the research. “Elphaba. She barely speaks to me, and I think—I think she sneaks out at night to look in the library, but I don’t know. Sometimes she returns smelling like smoke,” she added. “She won’t let us help her.”

“I’m fine with that,” Crope said bitterly, and Glinda stared at him.

“You don’t mean that.”

“You were out of your mind when we found you,” Crope said. “You didn’t want her near you because you were _afraid_ of what she would think. Oz, Glinda—if she wants to do this alone, if she wants to sacrifice herself for some cause—to take down the Wizard, which we all know she can’t do, then I’m not going down with her.”

Crope pushed himself off the grass, tearing away from Tibbett, who looked after him as he stalked across the grounds.

“I…” Glinda said, but she couldn’t find any words. Tibbett looked between her and Fiyero.

“What happened while I was gone?” he asked, attempting to joke, but his tone fell flat.

Fiyero shook his head. “Just—a lot. What happened with you? Any news from the city?”

Tibbett began fidgeting with a blade of grass, rolling it between his fingers. “The Banns are creeping closer,” he said. “Not enough so anyone can notice, but enough. You barely see Animals anymore. The Wizard hasn’t said anything officially—we all know he won’t until he has to—but there are murmurs around the palace every day, cracking down on any kind of anti-Wizard sentiments or propaganda.” Tibbett sighed. “Even “degenerate” activities—like theatre, or clubs. The Erstwhile Club is in talks of getting shut down because they have the band with Animals in it, not to mention the dancing.”

“That’s awful,” Fiyero said. Glinda’s mind floated back, all the way to the beginning of the semester, when she had taken Elphaba to that club with Pfannee and Shenshen—Oz, how long ago it felt.

How beautiful Elphaba had been, dancing…

And then, the other memory came in, of that man in the alley, Elphaba’s hand on her elbow steering her towards safety, her desire to be closer to her even as they stumbled home in the rain. How she’d wanted to kiss her, how wonderful it had been.

How much she just wanted things to be simple.

How she just wanted to dance with her again.

 

Elphaba’s heart raced as she headed towards the library, her palms clenched in anger. When someone placed a hand on her shoulder she whipped around, anger crackling.

It was Crope. She stopped and stared at him, breathing heavily.

“Go away.”

His face was set. “I shouldn’t have said what I did—about Boq.”

“I don’t need your apology,” Elphaba said flatly. “You’ve made it perfectly clear what you think, don’t go back on it now.”

“Elphaba…”

She stood straight, using her full height to tower over Crope. Even though she was only an inch taller than him the effect was intimidating.

“You’re afraid of me,” she said quietly. He couldn’t tell if it was remorse or excitement in her voice. “Crope, I know—I know I can do this. I know I can take him down. And if any of you got hurt—don’t you see, it would be the end of me?” Her voice trembled. “I have to do this. And you’re right—I’ll bring Boq back, I’m sure Father can do something. He’ll be safer here at university anyway, and so will all of you—”

Crope reached out and touched her arm, and she looked at him as if startled out of a reverie.

“What about you?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine, I always am.”

“That’s not—that’s not what I’m asking. You said all of us would be safer here at Shiz, but—”

Her face closed off. “I have to go,” she said. “Go back to be with Tibbett, Crope. Don’t worry about me.”

She turned on her heel and stormed off, and he watched her go, worrying for a fleeting moment that this would be one of the last times he saw Elphaba Thropp.

 

She woke late with her face pressed in the pages of a book, glasses falling down her nose.

The library was empty. Elphaba rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced down at her notes on Dillamond’s research. She’d been trying to piece together scraps, and had finally put her head down in frustration, if only for a moment.

She needed more. She needed what he’d hidden, she couldn’t keep relying on scraps.

 _Where_ had he hidden it?

She glanced out the window behind her at the courtyard, lit by lamps and the faint glow of moonlight. Movement caught her eye, and she pushed back from her table.

The light glinted off pale blonde hair, and Elphaba squinted, then, pressed her hands over her mouth to keep from gasping.

It was Glinda. Glinda, wandering out in her nightdress looking like a ghost.

Elphaba forgot she wasn’t supposed to care for her. Forgot everything she’d told herself. She stole out of the library as fast as she could while still being quiet, research hastily tucked in her bag, and she headed out into the courtyard.

Glinda’s hands were at her sides, spread, and her head was tipped back, eyes closed, lips moving silently. Elphaba could only hear her as she drew closer.

“Remember remember _remember_ …”

“Glinda,” Elphaba whispered, and Glinda seemed to break out of her spell, turning to look at her roommate, her eyes shining.

“Why can’t I remember?” she whispered, and her voice broke and she stumbled clumsily into Elphaba’s arms. Elphaba stroked her hair and clutched Glinda to her, and it was only after a few minutes when she looked up did she see a shadow moving behind Morrible’s window before the curtains were drawn and the light went out.


	20. Need

When Glinda next awoke, she was in Elphaba’s bed. The sheets were thin and scratchy, but she wasn’t cold.

She stirred. Turned, and was surprised to find Elphaba curled up next to her, on top of the blankets, her glasses still pressed against her face. She was snoring softly, and the fuzzy part of Glinda’s brain knew if she ever brought that up Elphaba would vehemently deny it. 

But the way Elphaba had held her last night...

She wanted to remember. Needed to remember. She hated feeling useless, and knew it was some awful, ironic twist that she felt so useless because she’d been trying so hard to help. 

She looked at Elphaba’s sleeping form, at the bony curve of her back, the rise and fall of her shoulders with every breath. 

She wondered if Elphaba was still taking care of her burns, but she knew better than to ask, than to disturb her when she was sleeping. 

Elphaba groaned and stirred, and Glinda shifted so they weren’t touching, though she longed for even that bit of contact. 

Glinda’s head hurt. She knew if she just tried, she could remember— 

“Glinda?” 

Elphaba had woken up. Her eyes met Glinda’s, her face only about a foot away. 

Oz, she wanted to kiss her. Fix her. 

“Hi,” Glinda said softly as Elphaba sat up and readjusted her glasses, skin dark green where they’d pressed into her face. “Sleep well?” 

“I—” She glanced around. “I guess I did. More soundly than I have in awhile,” she said, more to herself than Glinda. 

Glinda reached over and covered Elphaba’s hand with her own. To her surprise, Elphaba didn’t flinch away, didn’t withdraw her hand. It was warm beneath Glinda’s own and almost automatically Glinda twined her fingers in Elphaba’s and leaned her head on her shoulder. 

“I wish I could remember,” she said. 

“I’m not surprised you can’t,” Elphaba said. “What Morrible did—that’s some powerful magic, I doubt…” 

“But I should be able to,” Glinda said, and it came out almost like a whine. “I’m just—I hate being useless.” 

“You’re not useless,” Elphaba said quietly. “Not to me.” 

She turned. If she moved even a fraction of an inch more, her lips would brush Glinda’s cheek. 

“I’m going to go look again,” Elphaba said, standing up suddenly, her voice catching. “The library. I think—I really think we were so  _ close _ the other night, and if I can just—if I can just find it, then—”

“Do you want me to come?” Glinda said. She crossed her legs and pulled her covers up, shivering at Elphaba’s absence. 

“No,” Elphaba replied, and Glinda shrank back. Elphaba noticed, for her look softened when her gaze finally met Glinda’s. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt again,” she said. 

Glinda bit her lip. She wanted to say it was too late for that, that she had no memory and wasn’t that hurt enough? That Elphaba didn’t want her, kept pushing her away, and that hurt more than any spell would. 

“Too bad,” Glinda said as she pushed herself out of bed. “You need me. And you need to get out and not think about this, so you know what?” 

Elphaba raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips. “What?” she asked dryly. 

“We’re going out,” Glinda said, and for a fleeting moment she felt like the girl she had been, before she had ever even met Elphaba Thropp. “Classes start in the morning and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you spend our last night of freedom just holing up in the library. The research can wait,” she added at Elphaba’s look. “For one night.” 

Elphaba swallowed. Glinda watched her fingers gather the fabric of her dress and bunch it tightly in her fists before letting it go. 

“I can invite the others, if you want,” Glinda said quietly. “Or it can—it can be just us. But I’m not letting you obsess over this today.” 

Glinda pushed herself out of bed and headed to her closet, ignoring the distinct feeling of Elphaba’s eyes on her back. She shrugged a pale green shawl over her nightdress.

“I’m going to get ready,” she said, and disappeared into their bathroom before Elphaba could say a word. 

Half an hour later, Galinda re-emerged. Elphaba looked up from her book, momentarily stunned. She looked like her old self, in dark winter colors of midnight blue and sapphire, her blonde hair twisted up on her head. But her eyes were more serious, and worry was creased into her forehead where Elphaba knew it hadn’t before. 

“Where are we going?” Elphaba asked as she shrugged on her own thick cloak and followed Glinda out of their dorm. 

“Erstwhile Club,” Glinda said. “I—I want somewhere away from here.” 

“Is anyone joining us?” 

“They may, later,” Glinda said flippantly. “I sent a letter over to Crope and Tibbett.” 

“And Fiyero?” 

Glinda turned back to look at Elphaba, registering one thing off in her voice. “What about him?” 

Elphaba shrugged and quickened her step. “Is he coming?” 

“I don’t know...” Glinda said, slowly. “I mean... I didn’t ask him.” 

“Oh,” Elphaba said as Glinda fell into step beside her. They walked a few more paces, then she said, too casually, “Why not?” 

Glinda glanced sideways at her. “Miss Elphaba, are you jealous?” She asked, teasing, not really meaning it. 

But the darker violet blush of Elphaba’s face told Glinda all she needed to know. 

She felt her heart leap, weirdly. Jealousy meant Elphaba felt something for her, however that was. 

“I’m not jealous,” Elphaba said softly. “I just— it’s easy. If you want to be with him. It wouldn’t—wouldn’t complicate anything. And he could keep you safe. Like I can’t.” Her voice dropped on the last two words. 

Without looking, without even thinking, Glinda reached for Elphaba’s hand. 

“It’s not your job to keep me safe,” she said. 

The green fingers laced through her own, squeezed gently. “I know. But it’s my fault you’re in this to begin with. If I hadn’t—”

“If you hadn’t what? Kissed me?” Glinda said. The words hung in the air between them, so clear she could almost see them, but Oz she was tired of talking around it. “Because I kissed you back.” 

Elphaba shook her head. “It was a mistake.” 

“You don’t really think that,” Glinda said. “You’re just saying that because it’s gotten dangerous. Because you can’t protect me.” 

She gripped Elphaba’s hand harder. “When are you going to realize I don’t want that? I don’t want protection. Not from you, Elphaba Thropp. I just—I want to face this with you. Together. You really want to keep me safe? Then keep me with you.” She took a breath. “You think pushing me away is going to keep me safe but it’s not. Morrible already knows you care for me; you can’t hide that.” 

Glinda stopped and turned so she was facing Elphaba. “I’m staying with you,” she said. “I’m done letting you push me away.” 

Elphaba’s pulse quickened; Glinda felt it under her wrist. 

But then the Erstwhile Club appeared in front of them, and Elphaba let her hand drop. Glinda felt the sharp stab of disappointment, until Elphaba gently laced her fingers between Glinda’s own . 

“Dance with me,” she said. “When—when we get inside.” 

“Okay,” Glinda said, and squeezed her hand back. 

The atmosphere in the club was immediately different than when they had last come—had it really only been a few months ago? It felt like lifetimes. There was now a guard posted at the door, eyeing the girls as they walked in and immediately making Elphaba feel uneasy. The band no longer played the lively tunes they had, and of the members only the Raccoon remained; the rest were now human. In fact, the Raccoon was the only Animal in the entire club, and Elphaba suspected the only reason they’d allowed him to stay was so the normal patrons wouldn’t raise a fuss. 

The music was slow and somber, and while a few pairs of eyes glanced up to meet the girls as they came in, none of them lingered too long. 

“Maybe we should go,” Elphaba murmured, but Glinda set her mouth in a determined line. 

“I want to dance with you,” she said. She threw her shoulders back and walked towards the bar. Elphaba pretended not to notice the increase in stares, the eyes that followed Glinda around the bar. 

“Two Ozmopolitans, please,” Glinda said, her voice clear and authoritative. The bartender nodded, and Glinda and Elphaba sat down. The band began something a little livelier, though Elphaba could see the guards watching them the entire time. 

“I can’t believe how this place has changed,” Elphaba said. 

“A lot of things have changed,” Glinda responded, reaching over and lightly squeezing Elphaba’s hand under the table. 

“I know, but I didn’t—we’ve been at Shiz so long I don’t think I realized how bad it was getting.” Elphaba chewed her lower lip. “How far it had spread.” 

“Don’t think about it now.” 

“How can I not think about it? Look around you,” she snapped. “Oz is turning into this—this fascist regime and they’re starting with the Animals and Dillamond was—Dillamond was—” She shook her head. “We shouldn’t have come here.” 

“We needed to get out,” Glinda said. She reached for her drink and took a few sips, the alcohol strong on her tongue. 

She wanted her head fuzzy. Wanted Elphaba to save her like the last time they’d been there. 

“Dance with me,” Glinda said when she’d downed half her drink. Elphaba frowned down into hers, having not touched it. “You’re the one who wanted to.” 

“I know, but—”

Glinda slid off her stool, her hand placed firmly on the seat of it to steady herself. “I’m not going to let you sit here and think about Dillamond or the Banns or Morrible or anything else. Just—just give me one song, Elphie.” 

Maybe it was the nickname, or the pleading tone in Glinda’s voice. Maybe it was something inside Elphaba stirring, awakening, something she’d tried to desperately to push down—not magic, but something else. 

“Please,” Glinda whispered, and whether or not Elphaba heard her didn’t even matter, because she could feel the warmth of her hand in her own as she lead her out to the floor. 


End file.
